


Bite Me!

by MsMK



Series: Fight Me! Definitive Collection [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gang Violence, Healing an Abused partner, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mentions of Sex Trafficking and Child Sex Trafficking, Mildly Dubious Consent, Near Death Experiences, Not from our hero and not often, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reader Needs a Hug, Reader is a mage, Reader-Insert, Swapfell Papyrus (Undertale), Violence, implied eating disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 74,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsMK/pseuds/MsMK
Summary: You're a...Well, to be honest, you aren't much of anything. Your life after your sister's disappearance was a depressive episode wrapped in one big bad life choice, and even though there's a tiny glimmer of hope that you'll dig yourself out of the rut you're in, where would you be then?One last score with the gang, you tell yourself, and then you're out. With your mage abilities it's a cinch, right?At least, it should have been. But one misstep lands you in the lap of a skeleton monster that's kinder and more broken than he looks, and it isn't long before you're navigating the road to recovery together, and helping each other see yourselves in a new light.(Swapfell version of my other story Fight Me! because why not. Stories run independently and you won't need to read the other to understand this, but it has fun easter eggs throughout for those who have!)





	1. An Interesting Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> Released to patrons last month! Posting chapters one and two now.
> 
> So, the original, Fight Me!, was based on Secretly Yours by Meldaburke (you can find the link in the inspired by section) and runs concurrently with that story, but this one is a standalone project! Since it's heavily based on those two, though, it will borrow a lot of same concepts, so please give Meldacs story a read!
> 
> We'll see where this goes!

You sighed and wrapped the bandana around your face again, taking a deep breath.

One more score. One, and then you'll have enough. You can quit the Razorbacks like Cam always told you to, and you can get a cushy desk job or maybe go to school. Use your powers for good.

But right now, you needed to provide a decent cover while they tear up this street. This is Sirius territory, and those attack dogs are more than so in name. Your team, you break these things, cause a stir, taunt them--while your gangmates hijack the bookie's on the next street in secret.

If you can keep everyone alive, you get 10%.

If you can make sure everyone walks away unharmed, you get 50%--hopefully over $50,000. More than enough to get out of here for good.

You focus on the quiet pulse of magic, curling in your palm, and think of all the good you'll do when this is done. You'll donate to the local schools, and the hospital that saved your brother's life. You'll move back home where you belong and make up with your parents and try again, start over, be the person you know...the person she would have wanted you to be.

Maybe you'll even reconnect with Victor…

“Hazel! Pay a-fuckin-tention!”

You snapped to, looking up at Gabriel with guilty eyes. There's no excuse for spacing out like that.

“Sorry,” you squeaked, continuing your prep by reaching out and touching his forehead. The magic pulsed through him, and he hummed, leaning in and kissing you on the cheek. You leaned away from his cigarette breath, but let him kiss you. You suppose some habits die hard--are you talking about the cigarettes or Gabriel? Even you aren't sure.

“Thanks, _angelita_ ,” he purred, taking the boost of protective magic in stride as he pulled his red and gray bandana up, flicking open his knife with a wink. “I know you'll always protect me.”

His stare made you cross your arms in front of your chest, knowing he could see your frown even beneath your bandana.

Then he was gone. Into position. And it was time for you to shine.

You breathed deeply, letting the tingle of magic flow through you, pumping into it all the fear of pain, the need for protection, the feeling of cowering in your blankets at the gunshots outside.

Nasty things, horrible things, guns. You hate them. You've always been terrified of them. Which is why you can only stomach working for the Razorbacks--those fuckers don't touch them.

The overwhelming wish for protection bubbled forth, and a small, glittering green shield appeared between your hands. With a flourish you've never been able to lose the habit of, it expanded to cover half the street, and all of your party.

With a whistle, it began.

You closed your eyes and focused on looking unassuming, ripping your bandana off and pretending to cower in an alley as if the idea of the fighting scared you. This way it was harder to spot the person holding the shield spell--for certainly it can't be the poor, timid girl who looks scared out of her mind, can it?

You sensed them approaching before they appeared, and you put your head between your legs, fighting a panic attack. Okay, breathe, it's alright, it's just the dogs--their LV is nothing to worry about. You've tussled with them before.

The taunting grinds your gears--Gabriel shouldn't test his luck like that. It could draw attention to your spell, and thus, you. Then everyone would be fucked.

You hold your breath and focus on the lights. Little white souls, or more a dull gray--just foot soldiers, really. All they're doing is throwing shit at each other, you don't even know. It's when your vision goes purple that you'll have to call a retreat, because that's either the Black Death or his Hellhound, and you aren't sure even they know which of them is worse.

Problem is, they're so good at hiding their magic from a passive sense that you might not know they're there until--

“looks to me like i've found a little lost rabbit.”

You gasp and the spell nearly falters, but stabilizes as you freeze, not daring to look up. Purple seeps into your vision, and it is deep, eggplant purple, deep and dark like the void…

...great. You attracted the Hellhound. You almost wish you were dealing with the actual Hellhounds gang, or even a real Hellhound from Hell itself, instead.

“s'not nice to ignore people when they talk to you, you know.”

Does he recognize you? There's no way...not possible. You've always stayed hidden. He's passed you on the street before and said nothing.

“I...there's all this fighting,” you squeaked, channeling your very real fear and letting it emanate from you--hopefully it translates, and as you look up…

...you're genuinely surprised by how soft and gentle he appears. He's terrifying, no doubt about that--7 feet tall at least, nothing but literal bones as he crouched next to you, head cocked to the side like the curious mutt he is. A huge, gnarly crack extends from one of two fake, gold incisors, all the way through his socket and over to disappear beneath the fluff of his hood, and everything about him seems sharp.

But his posture is so relaxed, so confident, and he doesn't seem hostile at all. In fact, he's being friendlier than most of the gang members are sometimes.

You hear a gunshot behind you and goosebumps explode all over your body, a strangled cry of fear escaping as you double down on that protection spell, hoping it covers you, too, from where you sit.

“don't worry about that, darlin’. just m'lord blowing off some steam.”

And as he mentioned it, the color of deep Mulberry wine trickles into your vision, vibrantly overshadowing everything else. You only dare glance a little, seeing the Black Death himself, clad in leather and wielding some sort of sharp-shooting magic weapon as he attempts to shoot the knives from your cohorts’ hands.

They're...both here?! You suck in a breath as you wonder how to call a retreat this close to one of them--this is a fight that you cannot win.

“c'mon, i hate t'see a pretty, innocent little lady caught up in all of this…” You turn away from his hand as it brushes your shoulder, but there's no stopping him from hauling you to your feet, not if you want to hold the shield. “too scared to move an inch? don't worry...i've gotcha.”

And have you he did, his long fingers curled around your bicep, and it seemed friendly enough.

That awful noise again.

You struggled to breathe as something...something solid struck you in the chest, and with that your shield was shattered and you heard the shouts of everyone as they scattered, away from the dogs and other monsters pouring through the broken remains of magic.

The skeleton at your elbow sighed, surprised for only a moment as he caught you, and your vision went black and white except for the red, the red red red of your blood beneath your fingertips.

“m'lord was always hasty.”

* * *

_You could hardly hear your sister calling out to you, begging you to slow down. You giggled and scrambled over another rock, pulling yourself up the ledge. She was such a slowpoke, always so cautious._

_“Eliza, quit fooling around and get up here! I know you want to explore as much as I do!”_

_Your twin huffed, and you heard the scrabbling of rocks as she scaled the short cliff beneath you, and when you reached the top, you held out your hand and pulled her up._

_“Come on, the cave's up here! I found it with Vic and Si the other day!”_

_You eagerly pulled her along and she grunted, tripping over her slip on shoes. You told yourself you'd scold her for not wearing something with more tread when you got home._

_“Slow down! We don't know what we could run into in here,” Eliza muttered, pulling back against you to get you to slow up. You obliged, but only because you know there's a huge hole in the ground around here._

_“Listen!” You shushed, and you both fell quiet. The cave echoed, and you swore you could hear someone calling you “Did you hear it? Did you?!”_

_The very real fear in her eyes told you that was a yes. You exhaled, pointing at the hole._

_“What is it?” Eliza asked, tentatively approaching the edge._

_“People,” you said, lacing your fingers with hers. “I'm sure there's people down there. They need us.”_

_“Dad says we shouldn't listen to the whispers…”_

_“Dad's on a different medication every week. Come on, let's just listen in--”_

_Before you knew it, the ground was crumbling beneath your feet, and you both screamed as you started to slide down the hole._

_You tried to hold on--_

* * *

“DON'T LET HER OUT OF HERE UNTIL SHE IS HEALED. I WON'T BE HAVING THE PESKY HUMAN POLICE UP MY TAILBONE OVER SOME PETTY CASUALTY OF WAR.”

You felt like the grating voice was going to split your skull in half, but besides the horrible migraine you also felt breathless and shaky, like your whole body was convulsing.

“yes, m'lord.”

“AND CLEAN UP THIS BLOOD.”

“will do.”

“AND MAKE SURE SHE WON'T SQUEAL. WHATEVER THAT TAKES. EVEN IF YOU MUST DISPOSE OF HER. IS THAT SOMETHING YOU CAN DO?”

“you know it.”

“SPLENDID. I'M OFF THEN--DON'T FUCK THIS UP, I'M ALREADY ANNOYED ENOUGH AT HAVING TO LEAVE YOU OFF THE STREETS.”

A door slammed, and you groaned as your head pounded.

“i see sleeping beauty has awoken. darn, was hopin’ ya'd need a kiss.”

You felt a weight hold you down as you tried to move to sit up, and you whined, pressed back to the pillows behind you, finally gaining enough clarity to crack one eye open to see who your captor was.

Curious amethyst eyelights stared back at you from dark sockets, and you almost wished whatever had happened to you had killed you.

“you shouldn't move.”

“Fuck you.” You replied. Hmph. Intelligent.

The skeleton chuckled, leaning back in what you realized was a chair next to the bed you were laying in. And you use the term 'bed’ loosely, since it was...mostly sheets and you aren't sure you're on a regular mattress.

“feisty. but really, you've been shot, so maybe don't move too quickly.”

A shiver ran through your whole body at the news, and you got flashes of the horrible crack of the magic bullets, and the wind being knocked out of you. “...Shot?”

“yeah. maybe don't hang around gang wars, princess--m'lord could have done much worse had his bullet been meant to kill.”

You look away, choosing not to answer his statement. You hate monsters, you can't stand them...you know, you know they're the reason Eliza is dead. Ever since you watched her disappear into that horrible pit in the mountains, the voices had gone quiet. And a little over a decade later, they came, from inside the mountain. They confessed to murdering humans underground to get out and when Queen Toriel had released her list...your family had received a formal Royal Apology™ as if that would make up for the fact that your sister's name was engraved on a monument at the mouth of the barrier.

As if it would change the fact that there was a headstone with identical birthdates, but only one death date.

Maybe in another life, you might have forgiven them. One where you had turned out okay, maybe even better than okay. Another life where you still held that compassion you once had for any living creature.

But now...you'd been on the streets and behind bars too many times to believe in forgiveness. You don't even hold out much hope that your own family will forgive you for going the way you did.

A touch on your chest startled you, and you cried out in confusion.

“Don't fucking touch me!”

He didn't listen even a little, and you found yourself restricted by that strange weight from before as he flicked the buttons open on the borrowed shirt you didn’t recognize, and you felt the panic rise in your vision as your worst fears began to unfold--

“the wound looks good,” he said, stopping you dead as he tentatively touched the bandages you realized were wrapped around your chest. “relax, i'm not out to rape or beat you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you huffed, snatching your shirt and covering your chest, wiggling slowly out from beneath him a bit. Pain shot through you at the movement, but you took it. “What did you do to me while I was passed out?”

“not much. was gonna heal you, but...seems you got that part covered.”

“The fuck does that mean?” You snorted.

“means you saved your own damn life. i just provided the bed.” He was still staring right at you, never wavering once, and you huffed defiantly and stared right back. “...you're very lucky. somebody loved you very much once upon a time...and it saved you. even the best healers can't stop one of m'lord's bullets before it hits the heart. musta had a little protection magic laid on ya.”

“You're out of your gourd. I protected myself, and I can't heal, that's ridiculous.”

“oh, i'm sure there's an awful lot you have yet to learn about your magic. though that shield back there was pretty impressive.” He rested his head on his hand with a smug smirk that made your blood boil. “...too bad you don't value your own life, or it might have protected you, too. but looks like you're stuck with me.”

“Yeah, not happening. I'm out.”

You gotta find the nearest phone and call an ambulance...you're hardly even holding yourself together laying down. But he watched you try to wrestle yourself from the bed, the pain blooming in your chest again.

It took all of ten seconds for you to collapse with a whimper, curling around your injury protectively.

“papyrus, even though you didn't ask.” He smirked when you looked up. “my name? and don't bother, i know you. you were related to one of the souls.”

“I _was_ one of the souls,” you snarled, hostility rising for a split second. “And when you all murdered her, you took part of me with her, so I hope you're fucking happy.”

His smile finally faltered, but almost worse was the genuine pity and apology in his gaze.

“...you don't know the whole story.”

“I'm not interested, thanks.” You huffed, leaning back against the pillows again, short of breath and dizzy from the pain.

“understandable,” he shrugged, and his agreeance was more frustrating than his smug smirk had been. “but, let's just start over, ok? you're here, at my place, until that hole closes up. and by then, i gotta convince you not to blab about anything.” He leaned in, and you smelled the dizzying scent of echoflower cigarettes on him. “whether i do that by debate, by seducing you, or by mutilating you...well, that's your choice, innit?”

You leaned away, feeling terribly trapped and small. The only boon was that, again, he didn't seem to gain any benefit or satisfaction from your anxiety, and he purposefully leaned away, making himself a little more lax to be less imposing. You wondered if that's a learned trait he uses to catch his prey, or if that was his default state and his cold, killer demeanor was the practiced one. But you suppose that one isn't necessarily worse than the other.

Maybe you have to trust him right now, but you certainly don't have to like it.

He observed you easily, as if watching a wildcat with a thorn in its paw. So small and cute, but with a sense of wary discomfort in his presence. But he could tell the good in you truly wants to trust him, even in the subtle way you face him slightly more when you listened to him. You had been the twin to one of the souls that broke the barrier, he remembered that much--though the girl was far before his time, he thinks, or at least he doesn’t remember her at all. You had been a twinsoul, meaning at birth you shared a soul and had slowly grown into your own, and it showed in how horribly shattered and dull your soul was without her.

You'd never appeared to take a stance against or for monsters, and despite how many antis had wanted to use you for their rallies, he'd never seen you in the news.

Apparently, you didn't hate monsters enough to do anything about it, and that was...intriguing. You also hadn't called him a slur yet, despite your hostility. He suspects there's a part of you that can't bring yourself to be so rude to another living being, monster or human.

“What are you doing now?!” You protested as his arms moved beneath your back and legs, lifting you painlessly as he slid into the small bed beside you. He settled with your legs across his lap, his arm behind your shoulders, and a smug smirk on his face.

“didn't think you wanted me opening your shirt again, but you need a little more healing, so if i'm not doing it with my hands i have to do it with proximity.” He explained loosely, and before you could protest, there was a small whimper of relief as his admittedly-rusty healing magic seeped through every point of contact, his chest glowing steadily as he channeled the power through you.

“...I need a hospital, not you,” you grumbled, even as you pressed your face to his chest. “This is kidnapping.”

“hospital probably won't know what to do with a magic wound like that. best to let me work on it, since i'm familiar with his magic.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me.”

“maybe it is. maybe it isn't. do you know enough about healing and magic to argue?”

You hummed, staying silent, and he chuckled, leaning back against his headboard.

This was going to be an interesting arrangement, he can tell.


	2. Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus tries to crack your shell a little more, and you give your boyfriend a call. Neither goes as well as you want it to.

“so. i do know who you are, but i'm havin’ trouble with the name. care to remind me, or should i just keep callin’ you 'rabbit’?”

You ignored Papyrus’ attempt at conversation, shifting so your entire back was to him, pretending to be asleep. His brow bone twitched in annoyance, eyeing the green bubble you'd summoned the moment he'd left your side yesterday. It was keeping him at least 6 feet from his own damn bed, not to mention his gravely injured, incredibly stubborn patient. He had to admire your power, though, seeing as even without concentrating very hard it managed to keep him out, and it was solid on all sides. Most protective magic users aren't able to guard all sides like this, let alone with enough strength to keep him out. Surely he could bust it down, but not without severe injury on his part and possibly hurting you further, and as much of a brat as you were he truly didn't want to hurt you.

“fine. don't tell me. i'll just choose an embarrassing nickname to use instead,” he said finally, leaning back in his rickety kitchen chair where he had set up a watch post of sorts. “like schmoopsy, or wigglebottom.”

You stiffened, and he chuckled, seeing that he clearly got you there.

A small sigh, and you mumbled something.

“come again, rabbit?”

“I said people call me Hazel,” you snapped, louder this time. “And no, it's not my real name. It's a nickname.”

“we got that in common, i guess. most people call me by my nickname, too--s’mutt, but if you want, _you_ can call me daddy~”

“You're disgusting. Fuck off.”

“love to. can't.” He watched your shield glimmer and falter for just a second, and heard your breath catch. “alright, looks like your little tantrum is about done. wanna cut the shit and let me heal a little more?”

You didn't respond, but the shield dropped, and he could feel the pain radiating from you. Had you been biting the literal bullet just to keep him from finding you weak? Hmph. You remind him of another certain brat in his life.

“alright, let's get a look at that wound.” He hummed, and you obediently rolled over, looking out the window, mostly unresponsive and defeated. “come on, don't look so broken, this is just a catch and release. you aren't a prisoner, alright?”

“Says the jailer and the bars,” you snorted. “What part of any of this screams 'voluntary situation’ to you?”

You used one hand to gesture to his depressingly untidy apartment, and he huffed out a little laugh.

“if the apartment is the problem, then you and i are both trapped. as if i could get better for 2000 a month elsewhere.”

“Two _thousand_?” You gasped, clearly scandalized by the number. “For _this_ place? In the _Ricks_?”

“yeah, prejudice carries a hefty fuckin’ price tag. sit still.”

You obeyed, less spitefully this time, and you appreciated the way his hand didn't wander as he gently pressed it against your chest. Your eyes, however, did, and not for the first time you found yourself truly taking stock of the situation.

As messy and dismal as it was, he truly hadn't done much to prevent you from leaving. The moth-eaten curtains were drawn wide and the windows open, early summer sunlight streaming in through them, and any of his neighbors could hear you if you yelled. He locked the door, but all from the inside, and it was a studio apartment, so it wasn't a mystery how to get out. And your phone, he'd left it out on the table, ready for you to grab whenever you had the energy.

And he himself didn't seem overly occupied with keeping you around. Though he had a duty to keep you here, as stated, it really wasn't as if he was puppy-guarding you or anything.

The prickle of his magic felt strange and confusing, but good, in a way. It brought relief from the stabbing pain in your chest and felt...somewhat comforting, like an estranged friend.

“so, anyone gonna come lookin’ for ya here that i needta worry about?”

You blinked up at him owlishly as he retracted his hand. “What?”

“contacts, family, friends that might hunt you down?” He repeated. “anyone you can call and reassure that you're fine so my brother doesn't kill them for busting in here?”

“I…” You hesitated under his gaze. No, you really didn't. “...my boyfriend, maybe.”

“breakin’ my heart, there, princess,” he sighed, beckoning. Your phone leapt from the table and into his hand. “alright, call 'im. before i got a missing persons case on my hands.”

You took your phone, sitting up a bit more against the pillows, and again, you hesitated. He was beginning to wonder if you were just fucking with him. He raised a brow bone at you, and you flinched at the sign of displeasure.

“I...Okay. But he might not answer.”

He watched you go through the phone with shaky fingers, and it dawned on him that he'd had you for 24 hours at this point and your phone hadn't rung once. Were people really not looking for you? Not even the Razorbacks? Not even this boyfriend, or your parents?

“speakerphone.” He said simply when you went to put it to your ear. You slowly lowered it, pressing the button. The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang some more.

And more.

And again. Who doesn't pick up at the first sign of their girlfriend who's been missing?

\--Click

_“Hello?”_

“Hi...Camden.”

There was silence, and you avoided Papyrus’ eye as a heavy sigh sounded on the other end.

_“I told you never to call me in the evening like this.”_

“I...I know, I know that, I just...I was--”

 _“Hold on.”_ The voice got farther away as he addressed someone else. _“Jen, I've gotta take this, it's work. Sounds important, at least to them.”_

Noises, what sounds like a woman and the television fading.

The phone crackled, and the voice came back.

_“What the hell are you doing, calling me at dinnertime? Jennifer was right there!”_

“I know, and I'm sorry, it's just that--”

_“Just what? Can't go a day without me? And I bet you're still running around with those losers in that gang. You've got me fucked up, you know that?”_

“...I was calling because...I got shot.”

There was a short silence on the other end, and you were clearly holding your breath, and Papyrus wondered if you realized how transparent you are.

_“Like what, in the leg or something?”_

Papyrus raised a brow, but didn't voice his questions. What kind of person responds with anything but 'are you okay?’ when a loved one tells them they've been gravely injured?

“Uh...no. In the chest.”

_“But wouldn't you be dead if you got shot in the chest?”_

That made his other brow pop up, less in skepticism and more in genuine shock. Sure, he'd come from a bad place, but he'd at least recognized that his situation was a minority once he got to the surface. He was under the impression that humans didn't treat their mates like they were disposable.

“Uh. Well, obviously not,” you sighed, irritated and clearly embarrassed. “Someone saved me and they're taking care of me so you don't have to worry about my disappearance, I guess.”

_“Someone? Someone who? Are you telling me you aren't at a hospital? Who is this person? I want to talk to them.”_

Your eyes flicked up to Papyrus, and for a moment he thought you might actually hand the phone over.

“...I can't. He went out momentarily.”

_“Can you leave?”_

“Not with a hole in my chest,” you snorted. “I can hardly sit up!”

_“You--uh, no, Jen, everything's fine. One of the interns got saddled with something way above her head, just helping her out. Yeah I'll be out in a minute.”_

“If you have to go it's fine, I'm safe, you don't have to worry about me.”

An annoyed sigh from the other end. _“I'm not in any position to do anything about it anyway, you know. Look, call me when you're better okay? We can pick up where we left off.”_

“Okay…”

Then a click as the line went dead, and Papyrus let out a low whistle, clapping slowly to emphasize his nonchalance.

“wow. that's some boyfriend you've got there, rabbit.”

“Shut up, you don't know me,” you hissed.

“maybe not, but i can recognize a sleaze from a mile away. sounds like you're a bit of a dirty secret? some corporation man's extra side piece? bet he keeps you on the hook by saying he'll leave his wife if you clean up your act.”

“Shut up!” You chucked your phone at him and he caught it easily, leveling a smirk on you that had illegal amounts of badboy-hotness in it.

“listen, chickadee, i'm not here t'argue 'bout your relationships. i'm here to heal that hole in yer chest and keep you nice n'quiet.” He stood casually, other hand in his pocket. “i'm goin’ out for a bit, door's gonna be magic-locked so don't even try it. i'll be back by midnight, and i'll be taking this with me.” He held up your phone, which he then slid into his other pocket with a chuckle. “so you don't get any ideas of callin’ anyone else. any preference on what i bring back fer dinner, pet?”

You chose silence. He shrugged and tugged his hood up.

“suit yourself.”

And then he was gone, and you were alone.

Alone. Abandoned by your boyfriend, called out by your captor, with no way to call for help or even hear your mother's voice on her voicemail or secretly email your brothers to let them know you love them.

You placed your hands on your chest and, now that he was gone, you let the tears fall.

* * *

“Password?”

“suck my dick, you know who i am.”

A chuckle from the other side of the door as the slit in the metal slid closed, the sound of locks unlocking sounded through the rainy evening, and the heavy door squealed open to reveal a smug-looking cat monster dressed in dark layers, her hand on her hip as Papyrus closed the door behind him.

“striking fear in the hearts of men as always, i see, catty?” He asked, smirking at her as he swept back his hood.

“Like, such a charmer, as always, Mutt,” she tittered. “I thought you were on, like, a special assignment?”

“doesn't mean i can't frequent my usual haunts.” He waved to Muffet behind the bar, who raised a thin black brow at him before setting off to mix up a drink for him. “besides, she's not goin’ anywhere with that hole in her chest. she's kindness, not determination.”

“Still, aren't you, like, dust if your brother catches you slacking?” Catty purred, sidling into his booth next to him uninvited. It was close to the door, which was her job, so he dismissed it--she was a terrible flirt, and a decent guard, but quite harmless.

“he won't be caught dead in here. s'for lackeys an’ business deals only, and he is neither a lackey or scheduled to hold a deal tonight.”

“Here you are, dearie,” Muffet sang, pushing his glass towards him with his usual poison. “Heard you were stuck with witness-sitting?”

“m'lord accidentally shot a mage, an’ figured she'd be more useful alive. i'm tryna...get her on our side, you might say.”

“Seducing the enemy?” Muffet chortled, one of her hands daintily covering her mouth. “How very like you, Papyrus, dear.”

“stick with your strengths, they say.” He glanced down at his phone, checking the time. For some reason, he was actually nervous to be out for long--normally he couldn't care less, seeing as you were healing alright and you were just there until that hole closed up. But…

“Worried about the time? You don't think she'll, like, bleed out in your bed?” Catty chuckled. “Wouldn't be the first.”

“that's a tasteless joke, even for you,” he hummed, absently wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Catty purred and leaned into him, happy for the positive attention. There had never been anything romantic between them, but rather a friendly sort of banter that kept the creeps off her when Bratty wasn't around. He sipped his drink, looking at the time again. “dunno why, just feel antsy. like maybe i shouldn't have left.”

“Your hunches have never been, like, wrong, you know,” Catty pointed out, tail flicking curiously. “Maybe her HoPe is lower than you thought. Not all humans are as hardy as Frisk is, right?”

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the wood of the table. “she's fine, physically. a little bit of a bitch, but feistier than most witnesses. her sister was one of the souls from the barrier, so maybe that's why i feel weird.”

“Oh, yeaaaah, like, complicated relationship much?”

Complicated didn't even begin to describe it, but the wording made him chuckle.

“anyway, i should probably find some good magic food to bring back to her. maybe some of muffet's pastries? wanna get her mobile pretty quickly.”

“Hard to properly seduce her if you can't, like, seal the deal,” Catty snickered.

“hard to do my job if i'm babysitting a human.” He flicked one of her ears, and it twitched, unaffected. “i'm an attack dog, not a nursery maid.”

“Pit Bulls used to do both of those jobs,” Muffet pointed out, returning to the table to slide a bag of pastries over. “Didn't mean to eavesdrop. These should help your...charge.”

Catty slid out of the seat to answer the knock on the door, and Muffet took her spot pointedly as Papyrus knocked back the rest of his drink.

“mmm, not tonight, little miss,” he purred, before she could even ask. He cradled her chin and kissed her jaw, and the spider monster huffed and blushed, adjusting her glasses. “sorry. lord's orders, dying human. you know how it is.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Muffet grumbled, placing two hands on his cheekbones and staring him down with a cocked brow. “One of these days you will wish you took every opportunity to fuck me that you had.”

“i always lament a lost chance to fuck,” he admitted. “even if it wasn't with my incredibly fetching ex that runs my favorite bar.”

“Shut up, you stupid, sexy, smooth-talking Mutt. Get out of my bar and back to work.” She smirked and slapped his cheekbone. “Let me know when your bed gets cold.”

“right now it's pretty warm with blood and bandages and a very disgruntled human girl,” he pointed out. “but, you know, who knows. maybe she's freaky.”

Muffet rolled all her eyes and stood, returning to her bar and paying no more mind to him as he checked his phone again.

He'd only been gone for an hour, but...it felt...bad. He still had several hours before he told you he'd be back, but he decided it was better to be early than to ignore his gut in case you were bleeding out or something.

He scribbled his phone number and “put it on my tab and call me” on a napkin cheekily, leaving it for Muffet to retrieve at some point.

Time to get home to his scared little bunny.


	3. Progress?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out you're more than just an ice queen, and Mutt might have gotten in a little bit over his head with you somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the encouragement on this one! I'm having a lot of fun!

_ It's dark in here. _

_ You must have had that thought a thousand times in a thousand places down here, but this place was always the darkest. You heard a hideous laugh from somewhere in the distance, a queen gone mad. _

_ The feeling of your soul bond with your sister severing is heartbreaking, so painful. A pair of violet lights that seemed a comfort, your body was so heavy. _

_ Give up. It's all that's left. She's gone. There's no reason to continue. _

_ The violet lights disagree, it's quiet, but they are buzzing and begging you to stay. _

_ You don't want to listen. You've been cold for so long, and now you're ready to bask in this warmth. _

_ … _

_ The violet lights  _ **_insist_ ** _. _

\---------

“hey!”

You flutter your eyes open, torso and limbs heavy with restraining magic, the insistent hum of healing taking away some of the ache and warming you as you blink over at your captor.

His face was so hard to read, yet infinitely expressive. He was angry, but also worried? Just a little bit? You think? Maybe he was the warmth you'd been feeling…

Cold bones gripped your chin, and it should have been aggressive but for some reason it was gentle, and you were drawn to look into his furrowed sockets.

...such a beautiful shade of purple he had shining in there.

.....you had to force yourself to add 'for a monster’ at the end there.

“earth to space cadet,” he teased, his face relaxing as he saw something he liked. “you don't get to blast off just yet.”

He gave your cheek a playful slap and tossed the bag of pastries at you, turning to the kitchen to make a much-needed cup of coffee. Or maybe another stiff drink. He didn't really know what he needed after that scare.

He was lucky he'd followed his gut and gone home to check on you. It was rare that a human ever fell down from lack of HoPe, since their bodies tend to persevere, but he was right when he had started to suspect your low HoPe coupled with your physical injury might make you a statistic. He'd come in to see you completely unresponsive with only a sliver of HP, and in a panic he had quickly performed a CHECK. Without permission, but he was concerned about failing his mission and losing his ward.

He had never  _ seen _ such a fucked up soul. It was hardly in shape, so many broken pieces that he was worried even looking at it might cause it to crumble. There was a whole entire section just  _ missing _ , not surprising since he knew you were twin souls with the sister you'd lost. Damn, you'd actually had a pretty miraculous life all things considering.

...At least your stats still had some sass left.

 

**_Name: [Nosy much? She already told you to call her Hazel.]_ **

**_Age: [You know, it's rude to ask a woman's age.]_ **

**_HP: 0.05/7_ **

 

**_*Terrified, alone, and cold. She needs a friend, not a warden._ **

 

The HP was...woof. He hadn't seen HP that low since his brother was little. That's less than he'd ever seen on anyone with clean hands, let alone any sort of gangbanger. You're lucky you don't go to the hospital every time you stub your toe.

And that's the max HP. The current was even more worrisome.

So he'd quit the CHECK and moved quickly, trying to be as gentle and friendly as he could to wake you.

He fumbled with the coffee filter box with a soft curse, pausing his task to run a hand over his skull. He doesn't know why he's so  _ shaken _ by this--he's seen humans and monsters alike die, hundreds of times. Maybe it was the state of your soul...even his didn't look  _ that _ fucked, and his was pretty fucking bad.

“eat those pastries, they'll make you feel better,” he said distractedly, and he heard no response from you. He turned around and saw you were still awake, but silent and despondent.

Compared to your fire from earlier, this was odd. Sure, he isn't an expert on human behavior, but you'd shown more spunk prior to the last few heals than you do now, which is...disconcerting.

He set about making a cup of SeaTea for you to keep his hands busy while the coffee brewed.

Easier to pretend they aren't shaking.

When he finally returned to the bed with the two mugs, you'd worked yourself into a sitting position. You looked awful, but then again, yesterday you were shot, so you look pretty good all things considered.

“the pastries,” he nagged, setting your tea down on the nightstand. He's certain if you could cross your arms comfortably you would right now. “and the tea. come on, i just want ya t'get your sea legs back.”

“So you can get rid of me,” you snorted, fingers nervously picking at the sticker on the takeout bag. “You don't have to pretend you care.”

“oh, i care,” he drawled, resuming his spot in the old kitchen chair. “any decent person would care. after all, stockholm syndrome is such a rare trope these days.”

A middle finger. He chuckled. There's the fight.

He opted for silence after that, giving you a bit of space as he pulled his book out, resuming his reading as he'd been doing while watching over you. He listened closely, tuning into you as he barely retained the information on the page.

Your heartbeat, nervous.

Your breathing, unstable.

Your nails, drumming anxiously.

Finally he heard the peeling of the sticker and the crinkle of the bag, and he resisted the urge to look up in case it discouraged you.

“I thought you weren't coming back until midnight?”

Your quiet voice did give him a start, not expecting you to address him directly without prompting. He looked up curiously, and you cast your eyes down to your donut.

“what?”

“You said you wouldn't be back until midnight.” You repeated with a huff. “You were only gone for what? An hour? Two?”

“i can't tell if you're mad or happy.”

You pursed your lips, and chose not to answer, picking at the donut in your hands.

“...you wanna talk about it?”

You laughed, bitter and sad. “Talk about what?”

“whatever's weighing your heart down,” he shrugged, propping his head up on his hand. “got questions? concerns? complaints? try me, m'a pretty decent listener.”

You chose silence. He probably should have expected that.

He'd gone back to his book and made it several pages before you finally piped up.

“You love your brother a lot, don't you?”

The question caught him totally off-guard, and he actually hesitated for a moment, surprised, before humming and marking his page.

“course i do. practically raised him. dad was no fuckin’ help, the nut.”

Your mouth turned up just slightly, and you huffed out what might pass as a laugh.

“Weird.” You tapped your uneaten donut, ripped into pieces now by nervous fingers. “We're more alike than I thought.”

“good thing or bad thing?” He asked, turning to lean his weight on the mattress beside you.

“I don't know just yet,” you hummed, looking over at him.

“for the record, m’pretty confident it’s a good thing,” he purred, winking at you. “means we’re prob’ly into th’same stuff.”

He thought you’d get mad, but you actually chuckled when you flipped him off this time. 

Progress?


	4. Bored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're starting to get a little bored around here.  
> And you still don't understand Papyrus.

Papyrus stared at the ceiling, step one of his daily ritual to wake up.

Waking up had always been an ordeal for him. His movements were sluggish, his brain fogged up, still so tired no matter how long he had slept.

You could say he wasn't a morning person.

You, on the other hand, appeared to be, seeing as he'd woken to the sound of the bed moving, paper shuffling, and low humming.

After about fifteen minutes, he felt confident in his ability to move, and he sat up, looking over the side of the couch to where you still occupied his bed by the window. When you weren't aware of his eyes on you, you looked so different, relaxed, almost defeated. Your shoulders drooped as you rested back against the wall, and he noticed with irritation that the donut was still in pieces, the rest of the bag of pastries uneaten.

“not hungry?”

You jumped visibly, and a noise of pain escaped you at the sudden movement. He almost felt bad about it as he rose, sauntering over from the couch to drop into the abused wooden chair near the bed.

“i said, not hungry?” He repeated, tapping the bedside table where the pastries sat. “or d'ya not like pastries?”

“No, I like them fine, I just…” you trailed off, unsure of your excuse.

“i didn't poison them or nothin’. here--” He reached over and grabbed a piece of donut, popping it in his mouth. “see? nothin’ t'worry about.”

There was a glimmer of something in your eyes before the tired look returned and you frowned. “I didn't think you poisoned them. I'm pretty sure your job is to keep me alive.”

“good, then you understand why i need you to  _ eat _ .”

He raised a brow bone at you, and you hummed, wondering how to get out of this. It wasn't that you weren't hungry or didn't trust the pastries, it was Cam's voice in your head reminding you how many calories are in a donut, or your father's voice saying sugar is the devil's creation. It was years of avoiding even your favorite pastries and candies and desserts, after years of abusing them to fill the void in your heart.

“No, thank you.”

He was clearly impressed with your manners, if the surprise on his face was any indication. Maybe he'd let it go if you were nice enough?

“ah, well. can't say i didn't try.” He said, moving from the chair to the edge of the bed. He grabbed another pastry from the bag, a raspberry one, and leaned back, trapping your legs between his hand and where he sat. “y'don't mind if i eat it, then? muffet's baked goods are too good to resist.”

“Go ahead,” you said, leaning back as much as you can. Man, it really did smell good. Did he know, somehow, that raspberry was your favorite?

You tried not to watch, but you did have to wonder where it all went. You didn't see a throat or anything of the like, but you did have to stifle a gasp when he licked the crumbs off with a  _ tongue. _

A very long, very purple tongue.

That caught his attention.

“hmm? change your mind?” He asked, and the tongue appeared again to lick the raspberry jam off of one finger, slow and deliberate.. “or did you...see something else you liked?”

He chuckled as you whapped him with the pillow, your face burning red. “Go away! Leave me alone!”

“not until you're better,” he reminded you, setting the pillow aside. “and if you wanna get better, you need to eat and let me heal you.”

You looked at him skeptically as he handed you the pastry bag, leaving the donut for lost on the bedside table. You accepted it, and he didn't take his eyelights off of you until you picked one out and took a bite.

“good, glad we settled that.” He hopped up off the bed, scratching the back of his neck.

Why was he being so nice to you? Even if his job was to keep you alive, he didn't have to be this nice. You had had a few run-ins with monsters and from those you would expect him to treat you as a thorn in his side, not...a friend.

You watched him curiously as he moved across the dingy apartment, fiddling with the coffee machine again. Your eyes darted up to where you remember the cups being, and sure enough, he grabbed two cups. You supposed one would be for you, filled with that swill he called tea--how could something be so bitter and yet overwhelmingly sweet at the same time??

“I'm not drinking that,” you protested when he set down the dubious SeaTea. “It tastes like ass that hasn't been washed in a month.”

“you have experience?” He teased, raising a brow. You huffed, embarrassed, and turned back to your bear claw. “come on, it ain't great but it does wonders. you need it.”

“What are you, my boyfriend?” You snorted.

He looked about to make a snide comment when there was a banging on his door, sharp and loud, and it startled you into dropping your pastry. He seemed completely unaffected by the interruption but for an annoyed roll of his eyelights as he quit his task of forcing SeaTea down your throat to answer it.

You felt unwarranted panic grip your chest as a deep wine red filled your vision, confirming who was at the door. Just the feeling of the magic that injured you wafting through the door as Papyrus greeted him made your throat close up, and you grabbed the tea and downed it, wincing at the taste.

The momentary distraction from your panic was enough to calm you down, and you were able to peek over to the door.

Papyrus lounged nonchalantly against the wall, and there was the Black Death himself, arms crossed as Papyrus spoke at him in a low voice.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE ISN'T UP AND ABOUT YET? WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?”

“m'lord, you shot her in a very vital place. a couple days isn't gonna make'er an olympian.” Papyrus explained as if his brother wasn't being completely unreasonable. “look, i've got this, okay?”

“I KNOW THAT!”

“well, then why're ya here?”

The smaller skeleton hesitated, eyelights glancing to you, and you swiftly looked away. You heard a frustrated noise and heavy stomping disappearing down the stairs, and pretty soon Papyrus returned to your side, shrugging and flopping in his chair.

“i think he wants to apologize but can't admit it,” he said smoothly, flipping open his book. He thumbed through a few pages, having lost place somehow, and when you didn't respond he looked up.

You looked away from him, choosing silence.

But at least you picked up another pastry to eat.

* * *

The next few days were much of the same, and soon you were growing restless.

Papyrus left the apartment regularly, for what you had no idea, but he was never gone for long. He brought you back different magic foods, and while they were good and you did your best not to refuse, you were itching for the chance to cook something lean, or for a protein shake or something. You can't live on burgers, fries, and apple fritters.

Regardless, you slept most of the time, which helped avoid eating too much junk. You'd hate to be one of those people that blames their weight gain on an injury. Papyrus mostly left you alone, which was nice, but sometimes incredibly lonely. You still refused to let him touch you, and seeing as your strength was returning, he had stopped pushing the issue.

There's only one problem, really.

You're bored out of your mind.

“What are you reading?”

He glanced at you from his chair, which was now situated back in its proper place at the equally rickety dining table.

“a book,” he said cheekily. You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond he appeared on the bed, leaning against the windowsill. “wanna read?”

“Please, anything other than counting the dots on the ceiling.”

He raised a brow. “there's no dots on my ceiling.”

“Now you see how stir-crazy I am.”

You moved to grab the book, and he moved it from your reach, clicking his tongue and wagging one long phalange at you.

“hold it, little miss, ain't nothin’ for free in this house. what do i get out of this?” His smirk told you he was teasing, but even then you couldn't be sure.

“What? I have to pay you to read your dumb book?” You huffed, moving to cross your arms. You stopped when searing pain ripped through your chest, knocking the wind out of you, and you immediately whimpered and dropped your hands.

“how about, every time you let me heal you, i'll bring you something to do?” He offered, and you glared at him, middle finger itching…

...but you didn't flip him off this time. Hell, why not? It's pretty reasonable considering all he  _ could _ ask of you.

“Fine,” you sighed, moving to unbutton your borrowed shirt. It occured to you this shirt was probably his, if the purple hue and size were any indication. “But if you grope me I'll fucking dust you.”

“you could certainly try,” he chuckled as you hesitantly dropped the shoulders of the shirt, clasping it around your breasts.

He was surprisingly gentle with you, removing your bandages slowly, and you winced at the sight of the dried blood. You were overcome with the sudden urge to itch at what you know knew was beyond a nasty scab. He stopped your hands before you could, his eyelights concentrated on your sternum. It gave you the opportunity to look him over, seeing as you'd hardly gotten this close on purpose, let alone for so long.

You followed the crack on his head, from where it appeared on the horizon of his skull all the way over his left socket to his false tooth. You wondered how he got it, but you dared not ask.

He actually smelled...nice. You don't know how, since you've yet to see him shower or do any laundry, and you're pretty sure he's worn that shirt since the day you met him. But instead of smelling unwashed, he smelled a pleasant musk and a hint of something syrupy. Maple syrup, maybe? Or blueberry? You can't quite place your finger on it, but it isn't unpleasant. It reminds You a bit of your mother's house, way back before she skipped town and left you with your tired step mom and clinically insane father.

Back when things were simple.

“man, i’d say it looks good, but…” He sighed, squinting slightly at the wound. “honestly i’m not nearly good enough at healing to know if that’s true or not. i can pump raw magic into you all day, innuendo intended, but without direction it’s...a big magic band-aid.”

“Oh, great, so my babysitter in charge of keeping me alive doesn’t know enough to do that?” You sighed, leaning back against the wall.

“well, pardon me, darlin’, i’m just a little more used to puttin’ the holes in people, not sewin’ them up.” He grumbled, ghosting one hand over your chest. A prickle of warmth filled your chest, and it was filled with enough relief that you wondered if he was lying about not being versed in healing. “but i know someone who could help. ya mind if i invite a friend over?”

You hummed, completely meaning to snark at him about it, but...your lids felt so heavy…

He made a surprised noise when you fell forward into his shoulder, and he would have panicked if he didn’t realize this was just a side effect of the healing. He must have put a little more oomph in it than he thought.

Cradling your head, he carefully laid you back, his eyelights trailing over your exposed skin. Once upon a time he might have been ashamed to ogle a girl so openly, but nowadays he was less than perturbed by his lecherous tendencies. He took his time tugging the shirt into place and buttoning it, successfully resisting the urge to peek at your breasts--he’d gotten an eyeful when he changed you the first night, but that was necessity. He did have  _ some _ class.

He flicked his phone from his pocket, hardly even looking as he dialed the familiar speed-dial, brushing a stray curl from your face. He wondered idly what had made you chop all your hair off--he can’t help but think your curls might be beautiful if you grew it out. His mind wandered back to the asshole you called a boyfriend...he hated to think he might have something to do with it. And your borderline worrisome aversion to eating.

The other line picked up, and he withdrew his hand, which had been reaching to stroke your cheek. What are you, some child he had to look over? Get it together, man.

“hey--uh, yeah, i know, i don’t call nearly enough…” He smirked as the monster on the other end started to chide him. “i know, ok? but this is important. i need you to come over, and can you bring some puzzle books or novels?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is he inviting over?


	5. Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus invites over the only person he knows that can teach him to heal.  
> You wake to an empty house and make some decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Two in one day! It was supposed to be one chapter but it was far too long, I think.  
> Enjoy!

“Papyrus, it's good to see you!”

Papyrus grinned as the massive monster shook his hand, completely engulfing it in a huge fuzzy paw before pulling him close for a big hug. He was glad you were asleep to miss this, he had a soft-spot for Asgore and he wasn't sure if he was ready for you to see it.

“gore, my man, my main fuzz-ball,” he chuckled, returning the hug. He backed off after a long moment. “alright, before you come in, i wanna warn you about--”

“By the stars!”

“...about the human,” Papyrus finished, mostly to himself as Asgore had already dropped his bags and pushed through, well on his way to the bedside. “and that's why i asked you not to bring chara.”

Asgore stopped a few feet from the bed, eyes closed. No doubt he could feel the injury from where he stood, and was taking stock of the situation. He turned an accusing eye on the skeleton.

“I thought you were inviting me over for tea.”

“never said that,” Papyrus defended with a shrug.

“There's a dying human in your bed.”

“yep.”

Asgore stared hard at him for a long moment, before shaking his head, golden curls flouncing with the movement. “This girl needs a doctor immediately.”

“no can do. then they might ask questions about how she got hurt, ya see.”

A look of horror. “Papyrus, you didn't…?”

“casualty of war,” he corrected. “wrong place, wrong time. sans shot her,  _ on accident.” _

Asgore hummed disapprovingly. “And your knowledge of healing, or lack thereof, is not doing you any favors.” 

Papyrus shrugged. “could use a few pointers?”

The huge man sighed, pressing fluffy fingertips to the bridge of his nose, and after a moment of composing himself, he turned towards you again. Papyrus shut the door and shortcutted to the bedside, a little wary despite his faith in his friend. If anyone was worth trusting down there, it was this man.

He moved closer, pulling his glasses from his shirt pocket and getting a better look...and then gasped, eyes widening and then lighting up with recognition.

“what?” Getting no answer, Papyrus huffed, asking again as the large goat swooped closer. “what? do you know her?”

“Eliza?” His tone was so gentle, even more so than his hands as he softly caressed your cheek. 

Papyrus got the sudden feeling that he was intruding on a very private moment.

“uh...i dunno her real name, but she said she's called hazel.”

Something seemed to register with his friend, and the older monster's eyes immediately dimmed, his shoulders drooping with disappointment.

“...Right. The sister. I...should have known.” He brushed your hair back with loving fingers, and you moved slightly, and he smiled, although it was sad. “How strangely caught up in the monster world this child is.”

“i take it you knew her twin when she came through?”

“I know every lost child that passed through my ruins,” he said, a playful twinkle in his eye as he looked over meaningfully. “including you and your brother, once upon a time.”

“...that...was a long ass time ago,” Papyrus chuckled. “we thought we were so cool, running away from home.”

It was Asgore's turn to look uncomfortable. “If I had known the extent of your home troubles, Papyrus…”

“no, you did what you thought was best, i get it, let's not make it weird.” A couple nervous chuckles proved it was already weird. “anyway. bullethole. teach me.”

"Ah, yes! Let me start by giving her a proper healing, and I'll walk you through it."

* * *

You woke with a start, unable to recall anything from your dreams…

...except for a heavy, furry hand full of love and warmth, that seemed familiar somehow, and golden eyes that made you feel...at home.

The pain in your chest was reduced, somehow. Did Papyrus heal you more while you were asleep? You rolled over carefully, casting a glance around the apartment.

Gone. Being a studio apartment, you could at least tell that much. It wasn’t unusual for him to be out this time of day, but you were bitter about it nonetheless. He could have at least left you water or another pastry or something for when you woke.

...Fuck it. You feel fine, right? You’d made it to the bathroom and back before, several times, obviously. You sat up slowly, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed to the rough hardwood floor. You wondered where your shoes had gone, if he kept them at all...probably not. Just one more deterrent should you get the urge to run, you supposed.

But once again, you didn’t feel as though he was forcing you to stay. The most he’d done to keep you here was block the door with magic, but you knew how to dispell a shield--he had to have guessed that from the way you made shields of your own. He didn’t strike you as an idiot.

You stood, a little wobbly...but mostly sturdy. Good. You can do this! Just in case you kept to the wall and furniture, making your way to the kitchen.

...ugh. You can really tell how fucking tall this guy is. Everything is way out of your reach in the cupboards, all the cups second shelf or higher and the whole bottom shelf filled with tea and...you took a whiff of one of the unmarked cans and grimaced. Weed. Never could stand that stuff.

Well, so much for that. You grabbed a dirty mug from the sink and did your best to wash it so you could take a long drink...

Looking around, this place was in miserable shape. Surely he wouldn't mind if you did some dishes? Or swept?

You did just that, knowing from experience that just because you live in a hovel doesn't mean you have to act like it. You washed what was in the sink (mostly cups, looks like he eats out most of the time) and cleaned the counters so you could set them there. Then you dug out a broom and swept a bit, pausing for another drink of water.

You wanted to continue, but...you were a bit winded, to be honest. You did get shot in the chest, maybe you could take a break...

A familiar chime sounded throughout the apartment.

Your phone!

You cast a quick glance around the apartment, and spotted it--thankfully within your reach on the coffee table. You unlocked and scrolled, not sure what exactly you were hoping to see, but…

...a whole lot of nothing wasn’t it. Just some spam email and auto messages from the pharmacy, telling you you should really pick up those meds you were prescribed before the prescription expires.

You sighed and texted your neighbor, Kyle, hoping he could stop in and feed your cat for a few more days this week--you’d anticipated needing to lay low after the heist for at least a week, so he’d been set to do it during your “vacation” anyhow. You quickly received a response with a big thumbs up, and smiled. At least Hobbes didn’t have to suffer for your mistakes.

You scrolled through your phone, finding messages you hadn’t yet read that had been marked read. Well, you didn’t put it past the skeleton to snoop, and it really only annoyed you a little. Oh no, he’d seen your e-receipt from the corner store, however will you live with the breach of privacy? Not like you’re interesting or anything.

The thought crossed your mind that you should just leave...but honestly, what else would you be doing with your time? Would you rather take it to a hospital and pay out the ass? Yeah, you’re good not having debt forever.

So you’ll stick around. It feels like a vacation to you...and you know Gabriel’s cased out your house and you’ve paid rent two months in advance with the last heist. You don’t need to go back now because all you’ll get is a lecture and possibly fired because you failed everyone and you don’t know if anyone died _oh god people probably died--_

There was a knock on the door.

* * *

“Are you certain you need nothing else from me right now?”

Asgore's yellow eyes bored into him as they came to a stop at his apartment, having gone out to retrieveve a few things he deemed necessary for caring for you, and then some extra things to keep you entertained that Papyrus had grabbed.

“can’t think of anything at the moment, but if she starts convulsing, i’ll give ya a call.” He sighed at Asgore’s unamused face. “kiddin’, okay? i won’t let it get that bad.”

“Your sense of humor is usually refreshing, but that one fizzed out, my friend.”

They said their goodbyes and Papyrus fished out his key, wondering if he’d even actually locked it this time.

“Papyrus!”

He blinked, unable to resist the urge to startle like he usually did. Damn, how long since his last smoke? He’s due for one...did he take his meds this morning? Or yesterday?

Regardless, he looked up owlishly to find the old lady who lived next door eyeballing him.

“yea, granny?”

“You never told me you were seeing someone!” The old woman huffed, crossing her arms. “I can’t believe you’d let me be in the dark about such a lovely lady!”

“er...and that would be…?”

“Don’t play the fool now, just come in! You’re late for tea!”

He glanced at the door, wondering what his excuse was, but honestly he had none. He’d been holding himself up in the apartment with you, and you were probably still asleep anyway...he kind of did owe Granny a teatime.

With a scratch to the base of his skull where his crack met, he meandered into the old woman’s apartment, pausing to pet her sleepy shih-tzu, who was basking in the sunlight on a pillow in the window, at always. Lazy, lucky dog.

“i really can’t stay long, granny, i--”

He cut short when he saw you at her primly decorated table, looking freshly groomed as you lifted a decorative teacup to your lips. You paused when you saw him, but you’d clearly been expecting him more than he had you because you only lingered for a moment before continuing with your tea. The table was, as promised, made up for tea time, with little tea sandwiches and cucumber salad and Granny’s fancy teaset.

“...nevermind, i guess,” he grumbled, dropping into a seat across from you. He was more curious than angry--after all, it wasn’t as if he’d come home to an empty bed and you had just vanished. You were just at Granny’s, and that lady could stop a speeding semi-truck with a stern look. “what’er you doin’ over here, darlin’?”

You didn’t grace him with an answer, just a coquettish smile. Was it your goal to make him fall in love with you slowly? Kidding, of course, but he’d seen enough smirks in his day to know when he wanted to wipe one away, preferably with a sloppy kiss.

“Found the poor thing in just one of your shirts in your apartment!” Granny accused, shaking her spoon at him. Oh, God, is she making cookies? He can already feel his mouth watering. “So I brought her over and helped her clean up a bit, since you didn't have a hairbrush of course. Said she’d been sick and you’d gone out to get her fresh clothes. Can’t believe you’d let a sick person suffer without my care right underneath my nose, you Mutt.”

His grin curved at the nickname, used with care and love. “didn’t wanna bother ya, had enough on yer plate with your boy.”

“My grandson is my grandson,” the old woman huffed, forming cookie balls. “Hazel, dear, come over here and help me with the cookies.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He watched you closely for signs of pain as you moved over, appreciating the view of your legs that his shirt gave him. Maybe he’d forget to give you the pajamas he bought…

“You know the quickest way to a man’s heart?” Granny asked you conspiratorily.

You raised a brow. “Between the fourth and fifth ribs?”

Papyrus sputtered the sip of tea he’d tried to drink, choking on his laughter. A quick glance up revealed you were very proud of yourself for that reaction.

Damn, when did you get funny?

“That  _ is _ efficient,” Granny mused, not skipping a beat. “But no. The metaphorical heart. The  _ soul _ , right Papyrus?”

She was calling purposefully over her shoulder and he purposefully ignored her. She was trying to get him to blush because she shipped it--seen it a thousand times.

“Cookies!” The woman continued, slapping a helping of chocolate chocolate chip cookie dough into your hands. “Any man who refuses homemade cookies isn’t worth your time. And if they’re worth your time, you’ll win them with cookies.”

“should listen to ‘er, little rabbit,” he hummed. “might learn something.”

“...My boyfriend hates cookies,” you said softly as you dropped a few to the tray.

“Nonsense! Papyrus loves cookies!”

You exchanged glances with him, and he shrugged, a lazy smile on his face. He knew you hadn’t meant him, but Granny didn’t need to know that. “Right...guess we still have a lot to learn about each other.”

Granny popped the tray in the old-fashioned oven that Papyrus has fixed at least three times, and then shooed her back to the table.

“Nevermind all that! The important thing is--” Granny slammed one hand on the table, making you jump and wince. “--we have enough people to play pinochle.”

Papyrus chuckled and slid one of the tea sandwiches over to you, slipping a trick of healing magic into it. You were going to need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Granny, moving things along (:


	6. Pretty Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes words are just words.  
> Other times, they're exactly what you need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story! I'm having a good time with it myself!  
> Another chapter, I'm on fire with this ❤❤❤

You smoothed your hands over your new pajama shirt, mind far away from here even as you silently appreciated it. Half of his bathroom lights were out, so it was hard to see, but you think you looked alright.

You'd deliberately  _ not _ chosen the nightgown he'd dangled in your face at first, since it could hardly qualify as clothing. You're 98% certain he bought it in the lingerie section just to get a rise out of you. Would have served him right if you'd picked that and started teasing him…

But this one was good. It was silky and shiny emerald green, bringing out the green in your eyes. It had cap sleeves and cute matching shorts that you were quick to slip on. He didn't have bad taste, you had to admit.

You fussed with your hair and looked around at the assortment of care items he'd brought for you. You'd taken a quick towel-bath at Granny's and brushed your hair already...what little of it you still had. Still, you appreciated his forethought in a gentle detangling brush for you.

You ran your fingers through the clipped curls miserably, remembering with far too much clarity how desperate you had been that night, how close to the edge. Your neighbor Kyle had come over to see what the fuss was, always worried about you even though he pulls doubles at the coffee shop all day, but by then the damage was done--you'd hacked away your curls in jagged, haphazard slashes with a kitchen knife. You were lucky his friend was a hairdresser, and that he bothered to take care of it for you, or you might never have been able to face anyone again.

At least with the expert pixie, you were able to claim you “just wanted a change”.

You scratched idly at the scars on the inside of your upper arm, grimacing. Why were you like this? Eliza would hate you if she saw you today. Maybe that's the only thing you had to be grateful for--she never had to.

Alright. That's enough judging today, you thought. You just got shot less than a week ago, give yourself a break.

...okay. You took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror, trying to focus on positives.

There’s few. You guess you’re funny, when you try. And you make a decent Omelette--Hobbes never protested anyway.

Great. A chuckleheaded cat lady. No, no, it’s a good thing. Really. You sighed. It would have to do.

You stepped lightly out of the bathroom, and caught sight of your warden in his seat by the window.

He didn’t appear to have heard you, and you were too timid to call out and bring attention to yourself, so for a moment you just...watched him.

He could be quite graceful, despite his rough exterior. He was very catlike, you thought, carefully lazy but always watching, always ready to react. You wondered why everyone called him Mutt when it was obvious he was a tiger.

“you could take a picture, but i want proceeds if your buyers come through.”

You smirked a little to yourself, walking hesitantly forward knowing he wasn’t going to startle. He flicked his eyelights over to appraise you as you sat on the edge of the bed, and you noticed he was fiddling with a lighter, an unlit cigarette between his teeth.

“y'look good.”

Short and simple. You waited for the 'but’ or the qualifier, but he seemed uninterested in furthering his sentence.

“You don't need to do that, you know,” you grumbled, fidgeting with a chipped nail.

He raised a brow bone at you. “what, smoke?”

“No--” You rolled your eyes. “--I meant the compliment.”

His face didn't change as he lit his cigarette. Instantly it smelled of BlackBerry pie and the gentle scent of magic. “i can't say ya look nice?”

“No, I just mean…” You hummed, thinking. “I've already decided to stay here until you get tired of me, and I've already decided to keep quiet. You don't have to flirt with me or seduce me or whatever.”

He chuckled, removing the cigarette and letting the sweet smoke curl from between his teeth.

“darlin’. if i was flirtin’ or seducin’ you, you'd be naked on that bed begging for me,” he said bluntly. “i didn't say it because i was ordered to do it. i said it 'cause it was true.”

“You seem pretty confident in how fast you could get me naked,” you pointed out. Your tone was cross, but that coy smile from tea time earlier was back again.

Okay, he definitely wanted to kiss that smile right off your face.

“need a demonstration, bunny?”

Aww. That's not how he wanted that smile to disappear. But disappear it did, and quickly, coupled with sad eyes and a self-conscious posture.

“Uhm. I...have a boyfriend.”

“somethin’ tells me that's not an exclusive relationship, is it?”

You huffed and turned to crawl further into the bed. “That's none of your business,” you grumbled, pulling the worn comforter up to your chest and carefully laying with your back to him.

He let the silence overtake the room for a long time, until his cigarette was only cinders and the room smelled thoroughly of baked goods. He stubbed it on his hand, then dusted his palm of the ash, not even a hint of pain.

“still awake?”

There was silence. Then: “...Yeah, I guess.”

“i think your boyfriend's trash.”

You snorted. “Your opinion is noted and ignored.”

“d'ya love 'im?”

More silence, heavy with thought. If you had to think that hard about it, he's certain you don't. His guess is you have too low of a self image to think you can do better and you stay with him because it's easier than dealing with rejection.

You're fragile, in body and soul. It's no surprise, what you've been through, but a part of him can't see such a pretty girl get so down on herself.

“i'm not hearin’ a 'yes’, darlin’.”

“It's supposed to be an open relationship,” you said, dodging his question, like expected. “Supposed to see other people, since he has his wife he figured it was only fair.”

More like, he was leading you into the trap of being ever-faithful in an attempt to show him you were good and mature enough and he could leave his wife for you any moment. But Papyrus kept that to himself.

“do you wanna see other people?”

You made a small hum, and turned your head just slightly toward him. “...I dunno. Maybe.”

“let me rephrase that.” He leaned forward, elbows on the bed so he was hovering just above you. “if anyone you wanted would look at you like you were the moon and stars, how fast would you run away from him?”

He thought you would hesitate or shrug it off, but you chuckled bitterly.

“Like lightning.”

He let the weight of your admission settle over you both, and rested his head on his hand, just close enough to tickle but not touching.

“you don't need to follow unfair rules, and you don't need someone around to tell you you aren't worth it. seems like you're doin’ a bang-up job of that yerself,” he said, weighing his words carefully. “i can tell ya, no matter what happens, i'll always tell ya the truth. an’ the truth is, you're a knockout.”

You didn't dare glance up at him, and your eyes closed momentarily. He thought you might fall asleep, so he started to back off, until you spoke again, surprising him.

“A knockout? Really? What are you, some sort of gangster?” You hummed as you rethought your words. “I meant the old kind. Pinstriped suits an’ all that.”

“think i gotta suit somewhere,” he hummed thoughtfully. “don't think it's pinstriped, though. probably closer to pimp suit...or maybe it was 'gimp suit’.”

A giggle. His eyelights dilated in surprise. He'd made you laugh, and wow...wow, it felt great. He felt his grin spread across his skull as he watched you muffle your giggle.

“...alright, it's late. little rabbits need their rest,” he sighed, knowing if he stayed here a moment longer he'd push his luck. “holler if you need me.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, and he sauntered over to the couch to collapse with a sigh. That last smoke had calmed his nerves...maybe he'd even think about those pill bottles in his medicine cabinet in the morning.

He was almost asleep when you spoke again, softly. He almost didn't hear it.

“...Good night, Papyrus.”

He found himself smiling. Oh, yes, definitely a little soft for you, he's not afraid to admit it.

“sweet dreams, darlin’.”


	7. Protective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's trouble on the streets, and Papyrus is determined to keep you, and everyone, safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another double feature because I'm terrible at self-control
> 
> TW for mentions of sex trafficking and child sex trafficking.

You were startled awake by Papyrus’ hushed, urgent whispers and gentle shake, and with groggy confusion you managed to look up at him blankly.

Except he wasn’t there. You sat up, looking over at the couch, seeing his blankets tossed over the arm, and noise in the bathroom alerted you to where he was. With a yawn you considered going back to sleep, but you’re certain he’d asked you to wake up.

“What’s going on?” You mumbled, rubbing your eye as he appeared from the bathroom all bundled up, an extra sweatshirt over his arm and an urgency to his stride.

“we gotta go,” he said quietly. “just for a few hours. bad stuff happening nearby and if they find you you’re in no condition to protect yourself.”

“Razorbacks?” You asked, worrying that Gabriel was on your trail, out for the blood you now owed him.

He shook his head. “hellhounds. but, no guarantee they aren’t working together. so we hafta move fast, darlin’. put this on.”

He helped you into the sweatshirt he’d been holding. It smelled heavily of barbeque sauce and a hint of syrup, very much like him, and it completely dwarfed your tiny frame. You flipped up the sleeves and gave him a questioning glance.

“the scent will hide you, and if it doesn’t, it’s mine, so the other monsters won’t dare to touch you. now let’s go. can you walk?”

“I think?” You stood easily, and he pulled the hood up over your hair, before sliding his hands over your cheeks and making you look at him.

“stay close to me. don’t talk to anyone, don’t even look at them, keep your head down and a shield up as long as you can. understood?” You nodded, and he nodded curtly before folding you to his side. “hold on tight. i’m taking a shortcut and if you let go i’ll never find you again.”

You gasped as gunshots went off far too close to the open window, and your legs gave out beneath you, unable to support you and shaking so hard you couldn’t tell if you were fainting or just panicking, or both. Papyrus wasted no time hauling you back to your feet and up into his arms as easily as a child, and you immediately clung to him in confusion and terror as two more gunshots sounded.

“don’t let go,” he commanded again, and you squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face in the fluff of his hood, though you couldn’t tell if it was the one you were wearing or his.

There was pressure like your ears popping, and a deep, chilling darkness.

You fainted.

* * *

Papyrus stumbled as he landed, unused to your weight in his arms. He was quick to bang on the door in front of him, the cold rain hammering down in time with his fist, and the metal slit opened to reveal his friend’s yellow eyes.

She only took a moment to slide it back shut, and he rushed inside the moment she unlatched it.

“Like, it’s about time,” Catty rumbled as she latched the thick lock behind him.

“YES, IT REALLY IS,” Sans grumbled, sour, from his spot at the bar. “I CALLED FOR YOU A WHOLE TWENTY MINUTES AGO. FOR SOMEONE WHO CAN TELEPORT YOU CERTAINLY TOOK YOUR TIME.”

“couldn’t very well leave without this one, could i?” He asked, gesturing to you. Your dead weight shifted, and his eyelights immediately turned to you with worry. Alright, just passed out--that’s normal for a first trip through the void.

“YES, I SUPPOSE LEAVING HER THERE TO DIE WOULD HAVE BEEN COUNTERINTUITIVE,” Sans admitted, arms and legs crossed as he watched his brother move you gently to the other shoulder. “BUT SHE CAN’T BE ON YOUR SHOULDER, EITHER, YOU HAVE A JOB TO DO.”

Catty stepped forward, only to be completely shocked when he drew back sharply, defensively. “Like, you know I’ll be good to her, Rus.”

Papyrus deliberated a moment. He’d told you to stay with him. If you woke up without him you might freak out at best, or at worst, come looking for him. And leaving you with Sans in the room without him was a definite no, he saw how harshly you began to panic from the momentary visit earlier in the week.

“no.”

There was silence, and the scowl on his brother’s face deepened. “I’M SORRY, WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

“i said, no. let me wake her up and introduce her first. she’s delicate.”

“SHE’S…” Sans eyed him, drawing out the pause. “...DELICATE.”

“she doesn’t trust monsters and she’s got a good reason. i’ve worked all week to earn her trust and i’m not screwing it up by leaving her to panic in a room full of strangers with gunshots outside with no explanation.” His grip tightened on you, worried one of them might try to pry you from his grip. They’d have a broken hand.

Sans stared at him, and he stood tall, staring back. The magic prickled in the air, but his brother knew that in the end, he wasn’t doing it to be disobedient. That, and Papyrus could wipe the floor with him if he had to.

“YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES.”

Relief and gratefulness was obvious in his countenance, and he noticed Sans' smile twitch. “i need a safe place for her to lay down.”

“Back here, darling,” Muffet offered, opening the door to to her apartment attached.

“catty. follow.”

His friend obeyed immediately, falling into line as he stalked up the steps. He laid you on Muffet’s bed, unzipping the sweatshirt and pushing your shirt down slightly to check your wound momentarily. It looked good, so he zipped you back up and sighed, taking a moment to collect himself.

Catty craned to get a look, curious as always.“Is she going to be okay?”

“yes.” His response was a little too clipped, so he continued. “she’s fine. i’m just not looking forward to taking three steps back in the trust category.”

He leaned forward and muttered to you, and before long your eyes opened, and you shot off the bed, caught by his hand as he shushed you earnestly.

“hazel, hazel, shhh...listen. i have to go.”

“What?” You asked, eyes wide with fear.

“no, it’s okay, i’ll be back.” He reassured you gently. “this is my friend catty. she’s here to keep you safe. you’re at a secret bar that we use as a hub and everyone down there is a friend, okay? they have food and water and they can and will protect you if you need it.”

“Hold on, Papyrus--”

“don’t worry.” You shut your mouth at the gentle finger on your lips, and he smirked at you. “it sounds bad out there, but i promise you this won’t take more than an hour for me and my bro to clean house.”

You seemed to think about it, eyes pleading with him to stay, so small and cute in his jacket, and for a long moment he thought about kissing you...but he didn’t. Though he wished he had when you smirked a bit.

“...okay. Don’t die, please.”

“can’t get rid’a me that easy,” he chuckled, giving you a little salute as he disappeared.

You stared at the space he’d occupied only a moment before, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them as tight as you could without pain, eyeing the curvaceous cat lady who was smirking at you curiously.

“You know he’s, like, impossible to kill. People have tried, like, a lot,” she said, her tail flicking as she put her hands on her hips.

“Thanks, that helps,” you said sarcastically.

She smiled, and for the second time in your life you found yourself thinking a monster looked...soft. She moved slowly to sit next to you on the bed. You shirk her attempt at putting an arm around you, and she thankfully notices and puts her hands in her lap.

“Rus says you have trouble trusting monsters,” she said, voice a husky natural growl. “Like, I won’t be that person who pretends I know why or whatever. But I get it.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” you grumbled.

“No, like, for real, though. We’re new, and we’re rough, and, like, that’s difficult to handle.” She didn’t seem to see you shake your head. “But we’re not--”

“My sister died underground, and you used her soul to break the barrier.”

Silence for a long moment, and you snort a bit.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” you mumbled. “Not so crazy now, am I?”

“I never said you were crazy,” Catty said, sympathy heavy in her voice. “Like, I lost my siblings, too, you know?”

You shifted slightly to peer out from underneath Papyrus’ hood. “...You did?”

“Cats have litters, so I had three sisters and a brother. One baby was weak at birth and...didn’t make it. Her dust stayed in the nursery. I lost two more by the time I shed my stripes, and my brother...he’s still alive, thank the stars, but, like, he’s also a bit of a tool.” She sighed, extending a single claw to gently scritch the base of her whiskers. “It was rough down there. I think we’re all, like, still learning how to be okay.”

“I can’t imagine losing any more,” you said softly, your heart clenching as you thought of your little brothers, just barely turning 18 and full of potential. The tremor in your hands was thankfully concealed by the much-too-large sweatshirt. “God, how did you survive? How can you...How do you do it?”

“Well...I started by making very good friends,” she said cheekily, her cheshire grin sincerely teasing. “Rus is one of them. Like, there’s nobody better if you need a guard dog or a lap dog alike.”

“He always struck me as very cat-like, actually,” you said softly.

Catty’s tail flicked as she hummed knowingly. “Maybe. But, there’s one very important reason we call him ‘Mutt’, you know.”

“...What’s that?”

Her grin sharpened.

“No matter where you go, or what you do, you’ll never find anyone more loyal.”

* * *

It wasn't often he got to let the Mutt loose, and Sans always found the experience deeply satisfying. Something about the grace of his brother's attacks, the glare of purple magic in the rain, the sheer amount of work done in minutes…

Not that Sans didn't do his part of defending the territory. The Hellhounds had been encroaching on Sirius territory for some time now, snatching up young monsters to peddle in their awful sex trafficking rings. He'd hated it enough when they were kidnapping what few betas they had left, but it was when the monsters still in their stripes began to disappear that he truly unleashed his fury. And tonight they'd made the mistake of thinking they could barge in, likely having been watching Papyrus and finding him otherwise occupied and thinking he wouldn't show.

A terrible choice, he was sure they were realizing as he became the true definition of a monster before their very eyes.

If there was one thing Papyrus hated more than anything in the world, it was people who were cruel to children. Children, who had no choice but to depend on adults to navigate the world. Children, who are born with no evil in their hearts and no ill will towards anyone. He could never forgive a person who harmed a child, emotionally or physically or verbally. He could never forgive making a child feel unwanted or unloved, could never be idle when children went hungry or ignored.

He could never stand by while people turned their children into monsters like him.

But he's more than happy to use that ill-gotten power to prevent it from happening to anyone else. Each scream of pain, each crack of bone, each snarl that escaped him was a promise that his children would never,  _ ever _ go through that, and he'd be damned if anyone else's did, either.

This wasn't nearly all the Hellhounds, hell no, but it was enough to send a message.

Don't mess with monsters. They look out for their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> White knight Mutt  
> Can anyone tell that he is more than instantly in love with Hazel? Somehow these two gravitated towards each other and got attached far too quickly, him being super loyal and her needing someone to love her so much it hurts.  
> I'm not complaining, this is already more slow-burn than I wanted lol


	8. LoVe is No Laughing Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a price to pay for the things he does.  
> He's just happy you don't judge him for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: PTSD and PTSD episodes/related issues dealt with in this chapter. It's the first bit, you can skip to the first cut if you like.

The smell of blood hung in the air, pervading his senses. He could feel his pupils dilating, the feral part of him rejoicing as he systematically destroyed their meagre defenses.

He did not kill.

Oh no.

Death was for the old and the tragic. These demons were to be stamped with evidence of their crimes and dropped off for the police to take in, so they could face the true punishment they deserved.

But not before he roughed them up a bit. And wiped their memories of him and his team.

But oh, the temptation was there. The scent of blood was always the sweetest when it was the last few drops, and every time he made one bleed he felt a twinge in his LV, pumping inside his chest and displaying his true nature. It told him to crush them between his fingertips like grapes, to gain more EXP, to get stronger, better, faster--

He heard his brother's whistle, specialized and impossible to learn if you weren't a skeleton.

“MUTT. I'VE TAKEN ALL THE DOCUMENTS WE'LL NEED TO BLOW THIS PLACE WIDE OPEN.”

But the blood smells so sweet, on the one in his hands…

“...MUTT, THAT'S ENOUGH.”

But they hurt them. They hurt  _ children. _ He'd seen the marks on those poor girls, monster and human alike.

“PAPYRUS!”

...he stopped pressing his fingertips into the human beneath him, the damage no more than a dislocated shoulder and a few cuts, the name shaking something akin to sense loose.

He felt his brother's hands on him as his breath hitched, his bones clattering, his soul flaring, his LV banging on the hastily latched door.

“Take us back to Muffet's,” Sans said softly in his ear, but he shook his head. “No?”

He shook his head again, covering his face shamefully.

Sans got the message. He didn't want to frighten you or drive you away by showing up in the middle of an LV flare. They happened sometimes, especially after a large battle or PTSD attack.

“I pushed you too hard,” Sans apologized softly. “I'm sorry, I saw the signs and I let you keep going. That was foolish of me. Somewhere else, then.”

The world melted and there was a dark chill, and they were in the dilapidated living room of their old apartment, the first one they'd been alotted upon emerging from underground, hardly more than plywood stapled together against the wind.

Papyrus doubled over immediately, and Sans stood aside to watch for a moment, knowing better than to touch again before invited. He tightened his fists at his side, cursing himself for letting his brother go that far.

It was the few minutes he'd needed to grab the documents they needed and send them to Undyne, but at what cost? His brother's very fragile psyche can't take much more of these, and they happen faster each time. He should have known it would happen if children were involved, stars, how foolish could he be?

When Papyrus was finished expelling whatever swill he'd eaten for dinner, he was trembling still from toe to tip, and now Sans knew he could approach.

The moment he was close, Papyrus snarled and glared at him, drawing away slightly. His eyelights were slits, on edge and terrified. But the moment he stepped closer again, the taller brother crumbled into his embrace as he scooted him gently away from the magic vomit.

“Breathe, Papy,” Black muttered against his skull as he pet it softly, the hulking mass of monster practically a shivering kitten in his lap. He felt him take a shaky breath, and the exhale was a little better. Sans counted slowly for him, backwards from ten, and a soothing aura of green magic settled over them both, Sans’ way of reassuring him and easing the pain coursing through his system.

It was a long few moments before his eyelights refocused and settled into the soft, round dots they should be, his jaw and ribs painfully resetting to his natural state instead of the heightened feral predator he'd been a moment ago.

Eventually his breathing evened out, and Sans wished it would turn to sobs, but he could already feel Papyrus getting ready to plaster on a smile and pretend he's okay.

“YOU AREN'T TAKING YOUR MEDS,” he hissed disapprovingly as his brother withdrew from his lap.

“been a little preoccupied. i forget,” Papyrus grumbled, shrugging.

“THEY'RE FOR YOUR LV, NOT A SIMPLE ALLERGY PILL,” Sans scoffed. “FORGETTING IS WHAT LEADS TO THIS.”

‘'do me a favor and spare me the sermon,” he snorted, and there was a long silence between the two of them. 

Finally, Sans sighed. “YOU'RE RIGHT. YOU'RE AN ADULT. BUT I DID GIVE YOU A JOB TO DO, AND IN YOUR OWN WORDS, SHE IS 'DELICATE’. IF NOT FOR YOUR SAKE, THEN FOR HERS, PLEASE TRY NOT TO FORGET AGAIN.”

His face was unreadable for anyone unversed in his subtleties, but Sans recognized guilty realization when he saw it cross Papyrus' face.

Impatient to change the subject, he held out his hand.

“COME ON, THEN, IT'S TIME TO GO.”

* * *

Muffet's was dead silent this early in the morning, and normally empty, it was currently full of familiar faces talking in hushed, early morning whispers.

Mutt looked around, but he didn't see you or Catty. Just as well that you'd stayed upstairs. Nobody seemed on alert so he could assume this place had stayed relatively safe the whole time.

Sans had allowed him a smoke in lieu of stopping to watch him take his meds, so he took a shaky inhale as he drew his gaze over everyone present. It wasn't long before the questions would start, he could already see Sans making reassurances as he made his way across the bar. He'd leave that to him--despite everyone saying he was astoundingly easy to talk to, he never was too good at customer service.

He let the heavy effect of the magic in his cigarette weigh him down, ground him, as he stood in the corner and watched the door behind the bar. No doubt Muffet had gone up to tell you he was there, and as the overwhelming numbness from his episode passed he was starting to remember he was covered in blood.

But it was too late to do anything about it, he supposed, seeing as Catty had poked her head out the door after Muffet's return. Stepping close to her, holding her hand like a lifeline, was you.

The sight of you just as safe as he had left you relaxed what the cigarette couldn't, and he put it out in the nearest ashtray, giving you a little wave. He didn't dare approach you and scare you away, frightened little rabbit that you were.

If the blood bothered you, you didn't show it, making a hasty getaway from behind the bar and over to him quick as a whip, and he was really starting to see the truth in the little nickname he'd given you.

You didn't hug or touch him at first, only looked at him with wide eyes that begged him to get you out of here.

“see? toldja it'd only take an hour.”

“An hour and six minutes,” you corrected, a small smirk forming on your face. “...thanks for not leaving without explaining everything. Catty is...really cool.”

“i don't have lame friends, after all. 'cept maybe you, but i'm sure you'll liven up when you aren't a walking advertisement for kevlar.”

You punched him weakly in the arm, his huge sweatshirt still dwarfing you and softening the blow, and he chuckled, glad you didn't see the number of people that looked at you in horror.

Then you surprised him, your fingers curling into his jacket as you shuffled closer, practically hiding behind him as he felt a little shield go up. He raised a brow, but didn't protest, remembering his instructions before he brought you here. They may be his friends, but not all of them are above the easy EXP of a wounded human mage. You were showing that you had faith in him, and that made his soul skip a beat as he moved to block you from the rest of them.

He met his brother's gaze across the bar, who's eyelights flicked to you momentarily. It was clear he felt remorse for shooting you, but it would likely be some time before he swallowed his pride to apologize. Instead he showed it by politely staying as far away from you as he possibly could and not approaching you in any fashion. Papyrus appreciated it.

“some of my friends might come talk to me,” he muttered back to you, pushing you gently into the booth behind him. He sat with his long legs propped into the open space instead of under the table, and was happy to see that you made no move to get out, only pressed closer to him. “s'long as i'm here, there's no need t'be afraid of any of these guys. but try not to talk much this first time, it's hard to tell intent on a human.”

You nodded mutely against the back of his jacket, more than happy to stay quiet at his back until it was time to come home.

“Heya,  _ punk.” _

“hey, al.” Papyrus’ tone was borderline humorous. A friend, you decided. Likely a better friend than most, since he relaxed a bit against your weight. You peeked out the tiniest bit, only to be greeted by a brick shithouse of a dinosaur woman, completely stacked and covered in scars, arms crossed as sharp teeth bared an amused grin at him. “what’s the 411?”

“Dunno. Was out protecting the businesses like I was ordered to. ‘Dyne got the report on your place, though. Just thought I would...come check if it’s okay to talk.”

“why wouldn’t it be?” You shied away from her pointed shift, looking at you. Papyrus chuckled. “so ‘dyne’s only worried about the new audience, then. she’s fine.”

The monster turned sharply, gesturing, and soon a taller, blue scaled monster joined her side, long red hair tied up in a messy ponytail and glasses slipping of her slight nasal ridge. Her mouth was full of equally sharp teeth, but unlike the other woman, her countenance and posture pervaded an air of nervousness.

She pushed her glasses up, mumbling so softly you couldn’t even hear her. Nobody seemed to have your problem, though, and they patiently let her speak.

“is granny alright?” Papyrus asked, fingers flexing against the table.

“Oh, I heard this part,” Al chuckled. “Yer old lady was on the porch with a shotgun and a plate of cookies. They could take a cookie and leave peaceably...or she could shoot them. Most of ‘em picked the cookies.”

“Most?” You snorted quietly, and froze when all of them looked at you, including Papyrus.

To your surprise he only chuckled, sliding his hand under the table to squeeze your knee gently. “m’assuming the rest didn’t dare come up th’steps, darlin’.”

You smiled at the thought of Granny, shotgun in hand and a hand of solitaire as she invited them up for cookies. You were really starting to love that lady.

“anyway, we’ll be careful. but you know me, al, they would never get past the front door.”

“And if they do?” She countered.

“when you pick up a rescue, they sometimes come with a few special quirks,” Papyrus said cryptically, leaning his head to indicate you. “don’t think she’ll have a problem protecting herself. little rabbit’s more than just fluff and twitches.”

There was quiet for a moment before Dyne leaned in and whispered something to Al, who in turn snickered, before looking at Papyrus again.

“Alright.” Al accepted. “That's it. Boss man says you should hit the bricks an’ then the hay--you look like shit.”

“thanks. tryin’ out a new look. called sex trafficker blood, not sure if i like it.” Papyrus joked dryly.

“There's a name for your makeup line, 'Dyne,” Am chuckled. “ ‘Blood of My Enemies’. Anyway, go home and...get some TLC.”

You couldn’t see his face but it must have been humorous from their reactions. Then he shook his head and turned to you. With ease he lifted you into his hold, and you fought a blush at how easily he could throw your weight around.

“as good an invitation as any. ready to go, little rabbit?”

You rolled your eyes. “Put me down. I’m too heavy for carrying.”

Something flitted across his expression faster than you could catch, and he smirked. “oh? you don’t seem to weigh much to me.”

With that, he tossed you over his shoulder, enjoying your little squeak of surprise as he got up, a two-fingered salute to his brother as Catty opened the door for him so he could step out, and shortcut home with you in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving reminder to take your meds if you have not!


	9. Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the night's events, you're feeling especially vulnerable. You can't help but feel awful...for being mean and ungrateful, sure, but mostly...for being you.

Papyrus sighed as he threw his clothes in the tub, Undyne’s special bath salts mixing with the water to become a perfect bloodstain remover. He usually could care less if his clothes were stained, but he also hated change, and clothes shopping, so he was happy to take the samples off of Undyne’s hands to keep his stuff.

Still, he usually avoids the bloody punishments. Bruises and broken bones are usually cleaner for him. He really shouldn’t have gotten so out of hand tonight. He looked up at himself in the mirror, taking in his injuries. They’re on the surface, mostly. Even standing in just some sweatpants, the only way he could tell if he went through a wood chipper or on an evening walk was a couple scratches and some bruising, a cracked rib...it’s hard to tell, his pain tolerance is stupid high.

There was a knock on the door, and he didn’t hesitate to swing it open, leaning on the sink with an easy smile. You were no longer wearing his sweatshirt, which made him a little sad, but he had to admit the green pajamas you'd picked from his care package were cute. He doesn't compliment people if he doesn't believe it.

“what’s up, buttercup?”

Your eyes were instantly all over him, in a horrified analysis of his injuries. “...you’re hurt.”

“nah, darlin’.  _ you’re _ hurt. i’m just a little banged up.”

“Let me at least clean you up a bit?”

“if it'll make y'feel better.”

You glanced around, spying the washcloth hanging in the sink, and took it, wetting it and squeezing it out. He sat on the closed toilet, the only pristine thing in his bathroom. Not much use for it other than the few times he's been magic sick.

You didn't even hesitate to get closer, between his legs and leaning in, and he couldn't help but think that just a few days ago you wouldn't even let him touch you.

He closed his sockets and focused on the press of the washcloth against his cuts, the warm water washing away his wounds. He didn't tell you they would be gone in the morning--what's the fun in that?

“you're surprisingly gentle for someone who hates monsters.”

The washcloth stopped, and he peeked up at you, a little disheartened to see how upset you looked.

You bit your lip to keep from crying. You deserved that, you know you did, you'd told him you hated monsters yourself, to his face, after he'd given you refuge and saved your life. And tonight you were given sanctuary by even more monsters.

“hey.” You looked up at him, still taller than you even when he sat, even if only by a little. He curled his fingers around your arm gently, his amethyst eyelights trained on you. “i was only kidding.”

“But--”

“no. you have a right to your opinions, and to change them when new information comes to light. that's how the world works, right?” He waited for you to nod. “do you trust me?”

“...Yeah,” you admitted, shame heating your cheeks. “Now I do. I…and all those others--”

“one hop at a time, little rabbit,” he teased. “we can start with you trusting me.”

“I do.” You said, squeezing the washcloth in your hand, and it dripped a bit but went ignored. “I do trust you. Maybe that's foolish, having known you for only a week, and maybe you're just a really smart manipulator for all I know. But I don't think you are and...I trust you.”

“good.”

More quiet, but it's comfortable. You finish cleaning him up and he pulls on a shirt, shooing you back to the bed. You know you should be exhausted, but you're so keyed up by the night's events, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving you trembling as you shutter the windows for the first time, afraid of eyes on you.

“you gonna be okay?”

You chuffed out a little laugh. “Me? I didn't have to kill anyone tonight.”

“neither did i.” Seeing your surprised look, he sat on the edge of the bed. “did a lotta damage. some might not walk straight for a while. but they can't be properly punished if i let them die.”

You felt so foolish, assuming he had killed. Nobody had ever said that--that was your own bias talking. What a bitch, just deciding he was a stone-cold killer without any evidence.

“I-I'm sorry, I...I just…” The words wouldn't come out. He had to think you were a piece of fucking work, just...this is where your dumb mouth gets you in trouble, just like it had with every friend you had ever made.

“it's alright,” he assured you, leaning back against the wall. “we all have our expectations as to how the world should look. it's whether or not you accept the truth when it presents itself that matters.”

You wanted to joke that he almost sounded smart for a minute there, but you couldn't breathe deeply enough to get the words out. Instead you just tried to smile.

“don't be so hard on yourself. we're all learning.” He cocked his head, resting it on his hand and his elbow on his propped knee. “why don't you take a deep breath and try again?”

You did just that, taking a deep breath and letting it out shakily. He waited patiently, and didn't rush you when you had to take another.

“I'm sorry I assumed you killed them.”

He shrugged. “don't think many people would conclude diff'rently.”

“I'm sorry that I was helping the Razorbacks rob you guys,” you continued, and that made him raise a brow bone. “I'm sorry that I was so rude and ungrateful when I woke up, sorry that I judged you before I really talked to you, sorry I insinuated you were only nice to me for the paycheck--”

“woah, woah, slow down, chickadee,” he soothed, holding a hand up to stop you. 

You slammed your mouth shut, looking down at your hands. Your eyes stung with tears of frustration. Of course you can't even get an apology right.

“can i touch you?” You nodded, and his hand formly grasped your shoulder, comforting and warm. “you're tired, and you didn't eat much yesterday. you don't have anything to apologize for, those things never bothered me. tell me what's really wrong.”

What's really wrong? God, where do you even start? 

You're traumatized, you're a big ball of anxiety, you're a bitch and a monster racist and you always say the wrong thing. You're the crazy twinless twin who chopped her hair off with a kitchen knife and broke Bobby Shumacher's hand in 8th grade because he made fun of you for requesting a seat for your sister at graduation.

You obsess over your weight and your food and your nails and your clothes and your mistakes and your words and your general existence. You aren't funny or cute or rich or exciting. You're sarcastic and jaded and tired all the time.

Eliza was good with people. Eliza was charming and funny and cute and fashion forward. Eliza was smart and friendly and you only had friends because she did. When she died...she took everything good about you with her. It should have been you who fell down there, or you should have been with her--

So you accept what little you get and you listen to the words you know you shouldn't and you deal with people who use your body and your powers because what else do you have to offer? Surely not a personality or good company.

“take your time. just whatever comes to mind.”

You know what's wrong with you. 

“I'm sorry.”

There was a long pause, and his face was unreadable. He seemed to wait for you to elaborate, but you didn't know where to start even with that.

He squeezed your shoulder with a smirk. “you know what? that's good enough.”

Good enough. He wondered how often you had been told that, that one step was good enough, that  _ you _ were good enough, that trying your best to overcome your trauma was enough. From the look on your face, it looked just shy of never, and he hated that. He hated that this world had punished you for things that weren't your fault, and that you, in turn, punished yourself for them.

“...it is?” Your voice was quiet and you looked at him like he was crazy. He nodded, and you seemed to think about it. “Oh.”

“for the record, apology accepted,” he said, patting your shoulder before retracting his hand. “but i also think ya don't got anything t'apologize for, darlin’. if y'need anythin’ else, let me know, okay? we can talk more when you get some sleep.”

He stood with a sigh, his joints popping.

“Wait!” You grabbed his arm, and he stopped obediently, waiting. “Uhm...uh…stay?”

Smooth, cavewoman.

“here? in bed with you?” His grin was teasing, eyelights amused as he leaned on the wall. You nodded, and he practically purred, one knee, then two sliding onto the bed until his chest very nearly touched you, pressed back against the wall by the window as best you could.

“Not like that!” You protested, exasperated and blushing brightly. He chuckled, not moving as you gingerly placed your hands against his chest. “I meant, uh...it's your bed and...I could use someone nearby after all that's happened.”

“honestly?” He relaxed onto the bed easily, happy to finally stretch out where he couldn't on the couch. “me, too.”

You smiled, and it was so cute as you burrowed into the blankets with a much different aura than a few moments ago. He hates to think of the assholes in the world that might take advantage of your desperation for positive attention.

“hold on, darlin’, who said you getta be all the way over there?” He chuckled, sliding his arm under you and wheedling his way into the blankets to pull you close. It was risky with how flighty you can be about touch, but to his delight your resistance was completely for show, because in reality you were leaning into it. “sharin’ a bed with me is a one-way ticket to snuggle-town--”

You yelped in pain and he immediately stilled, before rolling you flat against his arm to check your wound.

“sorry, sorry,” he chuckled nervously. “y'know, i actually forgot how we met for a moment.”

You laughed weakly, and he chalked it up as a win, sliding your shirt down just slightly to lay his palm flat over the bandage. You whimpered as he took Asgore's advice and focused on your soul and thought about pulling together those little pieces as well as your skin. After a moment he felt resistance, meaning he was pushing your body as far as he could, and he stopped, lingering against your skin.

“Felt different than before,” you mumbled as he withdrew.

“got some pointers from a friend. feel okay?”

You nodded, eyes drifting closed as your head lolled to his shoulder, and he sighed deeply, holding you to his side as he settled on his back.

“you know, little rabbit...it does feel different than before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader has...issues. Lots and lots of issues. Survivor's guilt, for one, just heaped upon by trauma and grief and people who fed her insecurities and took advantage of all that.


	10. Role Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus may hide it well, but he's pretty fucked up himself. He gets bad days, too.  
> Luckily you're there.

The worst part about LV flares is the drop.

Papyrus squeezed his eyes shut against the sun as it peeked in through the shuttered window, and though it was warm and inviting, it did nothing to motivate him. His body felt heavy and getting up just sounded...like work.

His brother used to call these ‘Gray Days’, and as much as he normally made him get up and do things, on gray days Sans actually used to leave him be, bringing him his meals and letting him do what needed to be done.

And what needed doing right now was sleep, he decided.

Apparently, you had other ideas.

“Papyrus?”

He groaned and cracked open one tired socket, greeted by the lovely reminder that he’d fallen asleep wrapped around you protectively. The comforting weight of you in his arms helped a little, but still, he mostly just wanted to sleep.

“can i help you?” He grumbled, shifting slightly enough to recognize the two of you were hopelessly entangled in blankets.

You seemed to study his face for a moment, and then gave him a soft smile.

“No. I was just seeing if you were awake.”

And then you dropped your head back to his shoulder, and he automatically felt so comfortable he could fall asleep right then.

And he did.

It was a few hours before he stirred again, and this time found himself with his face pressed against the soft fabric of your pajamas, your stomach providing a comfortable pillow as you had dragged yourself carefully upright, stuffed a pillow behind you, and pulled out one of the crossword books he’d left on the bedside table. His limbs felt heavy, so heavy, his head ached, and he was definitely not in the most comfortable position...but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

He hated this. He was responsible for you, for making sure you had food and drink and got healed, and here he was, sleeping the whole goddamned day away and trapping you here with him while he did it.

So tired.

“Go back to sleep,” you said softly, and he sighed as your fingertips danced over his skull soothingly, feather-light touches drawing him back to the edge of sleep.

He blinked, and it was evening.

You were humming, soft and quiet, unassuming. He’d shifted a little, now curled up between your legs like a cat with his head against you, comically large to be sleeping on you and yet, somehow it worked.

Getting up didn’t seem impossible now. It just seemed...far away.

Don’t you need, like, the bathroom or something? He feels pretty selfish as he presses closer, but your scent is soft and reassuring, like apple crisp and fresh vanilla ice cream.

When he didn’t fall asleep again, he finally forced himself to stretch a bit and crane to look up at you.

Your eyes met his gaze almost immediately, and he felt your hand gently support his head.

“Rested?” You asked, that coquettish smirk on your lips.

“...i’ve been asleep all day,” he said quietly. “you aren’t hungry or anything?”

“Not hungry. Might need the bathroom,” you shrugged. “But, you looked comfy. I didn’t mind. You’ve done a lot for me, I could at least be a pillow.”

He didn’t believe for a second you weren’t hungry. But he didn’t say that, instead moving sluggishly off of you. You stretched and gingerly stood, dragging your hand along the wall to the bathroom.

He sighed and flopped, completely unwilling to do anything else. Maybe he could call Granny and have her come feed you. But even the idea of looking at his phone seemed like an awful lot, so instead he rolled over, staring at the crack in the wall that had been there since he moved in. What secrets do you hold, crack in the wall? Are you a poorly settled structure or did someone throw a controller too hard? He may never know.

He felt the bedsheets shift and looked to see you pulling the blanket up. You beamed at him, and holy smokes, he’s pretty sure if he had a heart it would have stopped beating. Then you padded off towards his kitchen.

Curious, he rolled over to watch you as you rummaged through the fridge. He watched you frown at the surplus of barbeque sauce and general lack of actual food, and that almost earned a chuckle from him. In the end you appeared to be making coffee. Why are you washing a cup? He has clean ones--

Oh. That’s right. He’s a lot taller than you. Your fingertips could probably barely brush the shelf the cups were on. He decided that someday he would rearrange those for you.

He blinked, still drowsy...and missed a little bit of time as you were now returning with coffee and a plate.

Somehow you’d managed to make a breakfast sandwich. He’s not sure where it came from, but you set it on the bedside table with the coffee and…

...proceeded to clamber back into the bed, next to the window, and resume your crossword.

“...not gonna eat it?” He mumbled.

“It’s for you,” you said distractedly, as if it was obvious.

He blinked, looking at the english muffin, dripping with egg and smelling like bacon. The coffee was still hot and smelled so good, stronger than he usually made it--he liked that you liked it strong. 

He didn’t move even a little bit to take any of it.

“why don’t you eat it?”

“Not hungry,” you repeated, voice sounding floaty and soft from behind him. “I’d rather you eat it. You expended a lot of magic last night, right?”

“yeah…”

“So eat. And then sleep. It’s okay.”

But it isn’t okay. He hasn’t taken his meds, he hasn’t made you food or SeaTea or healed you, he hasn’t reported to his brother, he hasn’t gone to reassure Granny you both are alright...it isn’t okay.

He feels hollow, as if he’s looking at himself like a movie, as he lists off the things he hasn’t done in his head. Numb.

“Papyrus. Eat something, please.”

“only if you do.”

He hadn’t meant to say it that way, and he hoped his harsh tone hadn’t bothered you. But you surprised him when the bed shifted.

“Okay.”

You leaned over him and gently cut the sandwich in half taking half for yourself without further argument. He peeked over his shoulder as you settled back against the wall again and you took a pointed bite.

A strange laugh bubbled forth from him, coming out as a weak chuckle. He managed to sit up, dizzy from the effort, and grabs the coffee first.

“you know, i’m supposed to be the one taking care of you,” he joked, and you shrugged.

“I’m not too broken up about it,” you hummed, taking another bite as your eyes roamed over the crossword in your lap. “Devotion. 10 down. ‘Strong affection or sense of loyalty’.”

“ironically well-timed,” he observed.

The rest of the meal was spent in silence, and by the bottom of his coffee cup he was starting to feel more like a person. He didn’t push you when you handed the last few bites of yours back to him, just finished it without a word. A few bites is better than none, and he knows from experience that forcing someone to do something only makes them hate it more. He’ll make sure and add something extra to your tea later.

He was surprised when you moved closer, almost hovering next to him.

“...yes?” He asked, an amused smirk on his teeth.

You shrugged, leaning against the wall next to him, fidgeting.

He chuckled and slid his arm around you, your weight against his chest proving to be just what he needs to ground himself. As you fall asleep, he floats his phone over to make his necessary connections for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I'm entirely happy with this chapter but I thought it was cute extra.  
> I'm having trouble not making this slow burn 😩


	11. This Little Rabbit Went to Market

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fed up with your eating habits or lack thereof, Papyrus takes you grocery shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied Eating Disorder

The next few days were relatively uneventful.

Papyrus continued to sleep in his bed, seeing as you didn't protest, and every night he spent cuddling you was another brick on the wall between him and the idea of ever giving you up.

You continued to worry him with your caloric intake, and after a while he decided supplemental magic was not enough.

“I'm not eating that,” you protested, turning up your nose at his offering of burgers and fries. “If I have to eat one more fast food meal I think I might just hurl it up, so you might as well eat it yourself. You need actual groceries at some point.”

“how i could ever put this much effort into keeping you alive when you speak so ill of fast food, i'll never know,” he remarked dryly, before setting the bag down and disappearing into the bathroom.

You rubbed gently at the hole in your chest, mostly closed and wondering what happens when it's fully healed. Will he dump you back into the streets? You can't be sure he won't if you don't stop being difficult. And you're healing crazy fast thanks to everything he's done, and you aren't sure you're ready to let go of him.

He reappeared from the bathroom, a new sweatshirt zipped over his tank top and the one you wore before in hand. He tossed it to you.

“c'mon, then.”

“What?”

“put it on and let's go.”

You obeyed, but your mind was racing. This is it, then? You've annoyed him enough and now that you aren't in danger of dying without him he's going to take you into town and leave you there. Maybe even erase your memories, you've heard he can do that.

You were numb as he handed you the flats he brought you, and by the time you got to the door you were shaking.

“jeez, relax,” he said, his words cutting through the wall of self-doubt. He was caught off guard by the genuine fear on your face as you looked up at him from beneath his hoodie. Was the idea of food really that difficult for you? “you look like you're about to cry.”

And with that, you started crying, burying your face in the sleeves of his hoodie and sobbing, and he could only stare at you for a long moment, utterly bewildered by this reaction.

Finally he looked around, making sure nobody's eyes were lingering here, and then pushed you gently back inside, sliding one hand beneath the hood to tip your chin up, despite your attempts not to look up.

“hey, now, take a deep breath,” he said softly. “we're only going grocery shopping.”

You stopped almost comically quick, your face a mess of tears and confusion, and he bit back the urge to laugh.

“Grocery shopping?!” You huffed in genuine dismay. You smacked his arm before squeezing it like a lifeline, using the other sleeve to furiously wipe your tears away. “Why didn't you say that, you prick?”

“...what did you think we were going to do?” It concerned him that whatever your mind had conjured was so terrible.

You shook your head and turned away from him. It was a corner you were facing, but he supposed the details didn't matter. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, making a mental note to be more vocal when he does things. Your anxious tendencies make it easy for you to misconstrue things.

“c'mon, little rabbit,” he said playfully, trying to coax you back into a good mood. “let's go find something for you to eat, okay?”

“...okay.”

You were probably more embarrassed by your outburst than anything, so he chose not to mention it further, instead taking your hand firmly to reassure you he wanted you here. He felt the relief roll off your shoulders when he did, and you followed him without issue this time.

“same rules as before. most of these people respect me, but don't like me very much, but they won't bother you if you smell like me,” he explained quietly as he helped you down the steps. “do not take that sweatshirt off, and if we get separated, stay put. if anyone dares to bother you, scream my name. even if i can't hear you, it should scare them off.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, squeezing his hand. He squeezed it back, smiling at you, before turning the corner into a mess of monsters, booths, and the occasional human milling about an open-air market.

You pulled your hood up, recognizing a few familiar faces among the humans. You hoped they weren't actively looking for you, but you didn't put it past the Razorbacks to come through monster territory to find you. You saw Christian first, and moved closer to Papyrus--where Christian was, Darryl was likely close, and even if Gabriel isn't here, those two can summon him quick as a whip.

True to his word, most monsters exchanged pleasantries with him but gave him space. A few friendly faces you recognized from the bar were around, even if you didn't know them by name.

At some point, Papyrus maneuvered you in front of him, hands on your shoulders and gently steering you.

“do you like chisps?” He said, his voice nearly drowned by the clatter and chatter.

“You mean chips?”

He chuckled. “sort of.”

You shook your head. Too many carbs. He didn't seem perturbed.

“anything catch your eye?” He asked, pulling you aside at a spot that had a good view around. You looked around curiously, seeing a lot of funny shaped versions of human food, some completely normal items, and some totally unrecognizable foods.

“Uh…” you shrugged, and he sighed, pulling you to the nearest stand. A tired bunny man manned this cart, a variety of boxes and bags of snack foods in front of him.

“pick at least one thing.”

You did, and with that you moved from place to place. He kept an eye out for patterns, noting that you usually refused breads or similar items, and decided you were counting carbs. He picked foods high in protein, chicken and turkey and power bars to supplement your aversion. He noticed you leaned more towards snacks and picked things that could easily be cooked ahead and parsed into snack trays--cheeses, nuts, snap peas. He definitely picked up the way you lingered on anything with fruit and chocolate, and picked up a few things along with your final picks.

In the end, he had a good amount of snacks and protein, and some sweets. You looked over the groceries at each cart, choosing silent approval each time as he 'ported them home to the kitchen counter to put away later.

“see? not so difficult,” he ribbed, enjoying the withering look and coy smirk as you walked on. Suddenly, you stopped, and if he hadn't still been holding your hand, he might have missed it. “what's up?”

You were looking over the wares at a jewelry tent with interest, dropping his hand and flipping up the sleeves to gingerly trace the shiny chain of a locket. He let you wander in, looking around at the handmade scarves, hair bows, and other accessories.

“you okay in here?” He asked. “i gotta stop a few stalls over really quick, and i'll be back. is that alright?”

“That's fine,” you hummed, examining a hood that resembled something from a fairy tale. He smirked, imagining you wearing that, a little basket like Little Red Riding Hood. Cute.

He turned to the shopkeep, a grumpy old cat monster with a button eye he knew personally, and made a gesture:  _ watch her. _ The monster inclined his head subtly, but made no other acknowledgement. It was enough, so he dipped out of the tent and made a beeline for the nearby shaded table, where a frog monster sat with his hat dipped low over his eyes. To the untrained eye it appeared he was just enjoying a drink and a nap, but he knew better.

“thomas.”

Thomas looked up at him, wary for good reason. “Well. 'Ello, Rus. Nice of ye t'come by a while. Any particula’ reason, or is this a social visit?”

Papyrus shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. “a social visit.”

Thomas nodded, one webbed foot knocking on a box at his feet. “5 G.”

He rolled his eyes but dropped the G in the box. “y'know, i really oughta stop lettin’ ya charge me cover, tommy.”

“Y'won't. Got seventeen pollywogs at home.”

“yeah, yeah.” He followed the frog to the right through a false wall, the bustle of the market cutting off immediately as he stepped through a sound barrier. He can't waste any time, seeing as he can't hear you in here. “need a good tracking enchantment. wanna put it on somethin’ pretty.”

“Y'musta mistakin’ me for Seam,” the frog snorted. “He's got all the baubles.”

“just gimme the enchantment so i can go buy from him, then.”

“Hold your horses, bonebag,” he grumbled, moving to a counter. Behind it was what appeared to the naked eye as colored sugar in jars, but he knew better--jars of dust. The latent magic left behind by powerful monsters that could be used to create unbreakable enchantments. “Wanna side of obedience there? Keep that lil’ birdy of yers from flyin’ the coop?”

“don't need it, thanks. just the tracking, something that'll track past magical barriers.” He drummed his fingers anxiously as Thomas measured out a purple powder, then a gold, muttered over it, and swiped his hand across it, presenting him with a simple silver coin.

“Jus’ hold it ova the thing y'wanna enchant. When it disappears it worked.”

“good,” he said, taking it gingerly. He left a few extra G, even though he knew he wouldn't charge him. “take care of those pollywogs, huh?”

“Take care'a that human.”

He flipped him off, exiting swiftly, swallowed by the noise of the market once more. The coin was heavy in his palm, a comforting weight as he flipped it between his knuckles nonchalantly, just a little something for reassurance should he need it, a smirk on his face as he hung a left and back to the tent he'd left you at.

Only to slow to a stop when he found himself blocked by three angry humans. From toe to tip they screamed trouble, and they wore some colors he recognized.

“Hellhound,” the one in the front ground out, fists clenching around personalized knives.

“boys.” He inclined his head slightly. “somethin’ i can do for you today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mayhaps Papyrus is using that tracker on us...mayhaps not...he hasn't decided yet...  
> Who do we think he ran into?


	12. Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just some humans seeking revenge for crimes against them.

Papyrus didn't make a sound when his shoulder cracked against the brick, only smirking like he'd already won as the human at his front scowled up at him, holding him by the front of his shirt.

“No stupid games, Mutt,” he growled, pressing his forearm into his sternum. “You owe us some blood, homie, and we intend to cash in.”

“sorry, bank's're closed on sundays.”

“Shut up before you get cut up,” the one on his left warned.

“please, children, put away th'knives before someone gets hurt,” Papyrus scoffed, closing his hand around the blade pointed at him and pushing it away. He barely even felt it slice across his palm. “the fact that you went after me means you're either incredibly fuckin’ dumb, or you're entirely too emotional about whatever imagined slight i've caused you. i don't think i even touched you all...just as well, because there'd be nothin’ left.”

“Shut up, asshole! As if you don't know what you did!” The one hanging back cried, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Christian. Bring it in,” the one holding him reasoned. The boy quieted, wiping roughly at his face with a frown. “We'll make it easy. you just tell us whatcha did with her body. then we'll leave ya alone.”

“kinky.”

“Bastard!” He yanked and slammed him again, and while it doesn't hurt, it rattled him just enough to scowl.

“joking aside,” Papyrus hummed, frowning as he gripped the hand on his shirt. “i'm sure you've got the wrong guy. i didn't fuck with any razorbacks that night, and i haven't killed anyone in a long time.”

He squeezed the hand on his shirt until he heard a crack, and to his credit, the man only grimaced as he yanked it away.

“could change that if the mood suits, though,” he warned. “so fuck off.”

He turned to leave, only to be stopped by them blocking his way back to the market.

“seriously?”

“We know you killed her, you fuckin’ nut,” the head honcho growled. “So tell us where Hazel's body is so we can get outta yer metaphorical hair, yeah?”

Ah.

Papyrus resisted the urge to giggle, manic with glee at their fundamental misunderstanding of the situation. He did let out a snort of amusement, shaking his head.

“what were your names again?”

* * *

You kept coming back to this hood.

It was light enough beneath your fingertips, but warm. Like a hooded poncho but definitely cuter. You couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of you and Papyrus dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf, even if this particular hood was black with gold trim instead of red.

“Ye like that, there, lassie?” The gruff cat man asked, smiling his large teeth at you as you withdrew your hand, drawing Papyrus’ sweatshirt tighter as you nodded. “It's yers then.” 

“Oh, I...I don't have any money,” you mumbled, embarrassed to be caught window shopping like a freeloader.

“No charge, missy. Yer friend has done a good amount fer me, s'the least I kin do.” He meandered over, a sodden leg clunking against the pavement beneath you, pulling it off the mannequin and pressing it into your hands. “No thanks necessary. I insist.”

“Oh, well…” you smiled at him, certain you didn't deserve it. You'd thank him and Papyrus somehow. It felt light and wonderful in your hands, and you folded it neatly and held it to your chest.

“see? one human girl, completely intact and happy.”

You turned, puzzled, to where Papyrus was standing at the mouth of the tent, looking nonchalant as he smirked and winked at you.

Beside him, however, was Gabriel, Christian, and Darryl, and your good mood turned to cold blood in your veins immediately. You paled, and Papyrus’ easy smirk hardened a bit, reacting.

“Hazel!” Gabriel breathed, and though you wished you could run you were rooted to the spot, eyes flicking to the knives tucked in their pockets. You can’t run, there’s no other exits...you’d break the tent if you tumbled back, but--

Suddenly Papyrus was there, in between you and where Gabriel had taken a step closer.

“you said to take you to her body, and clearly here she is. so, fuck off, now.” He growled out, arms back so you could hold onto him.

You peeked around his arm cautiously, a little ashamed that you had briefly thought he was selling you out. Gabriel didn’t look angry, though--if anything, he looked relieved and his usual aggressive stature was gone, shoulders sagging. Christian, always the emotional one, looked on the verge of tears, and Darryl just looked wary, as usual.

“I think it’s okay, Papyrus.”

“like hell it is,” he said, looking back at you. And then, quieter, as if to himself: “they aren’t gonna take you from me.”

You blushed as you stepped out from behind him, only slightly, careful not to make him think you were going to run. “...Hi, Gabriel. Hi, guys.”

“Oh, shit,” Gabriel breathed, composing himself. “Man, we thought you were dead!”

Papyrus adjusted to stand at your back, allowing you your conversation but more than close enough to help you. Not that you need it.

“Well, I almost was,” you said with a shrug. “Papyrus saved me.”

Three sets of eyes traveled above your head to where your unlikely friend was no doubt winking at them cheekily.

“He  _ saved _ you?” Darryl muttered skeptically. “No offense, but he’s not known for his mercy and good deeds.”

“doesn’t mean they don’t happen,” he pointed out. “just means people tend to look the other way when they do. you know. the way your racist, classist system so often does.”

Gabriel, to your surprise, sighed and nodded. “You know what, he’s got a point there. This system’s so fuckin’ broken I can’t even say who’s good or bad no more. My pacifist latino cousin gets locked up for planted drug evidence while a white rapist with witnesses testifying walks free after three months? Somethin’s been fishy about the system for years, who are we to pretend it ain’t so?” He took another step towards you, hand gently reaching out to ghost over your cheek, and you leaned into it affectionately without thinking. “And who we thought dead has been kept safe, so I’m startin’ t’think maybe it’s the monsters who’re right.”

Darryl was quiet, but Christian took it as invitation to step forward, pulling you close for a hug.

“Aww, Chris,” you sighed, patting the poor kid’s shoulder gently. “I’m fine.”

“All we saw was blood, so much of it,” he sniffed. “And then he was taking you away and we thought there was no way, we saw how much blood painted that alley...there’s no way you survived, we could have sworn!”

“alright, hands off, yer gettin’ your grimy human scent all over her,” Papyrus growled, batting them away. “if she walks through this place with me smelling like rats she’ll be exterminated.”

“You haven’t been home,” Gabriel said, pulling Christian back. “Will you be soon?”

“Is it being watched?” You asked, worrying about returning only to an ambush.

“Only by us, I can call ‘em off.”

“Then…” You looked up at Papyrus. You don’t really want to leave him, but you also can’t mooch off of him forever. “...I’m still healing. But eventually I’ll have to stop by for my stuff and my cat.”

Papyrus found himself smirking at that response. He was excellent at reading between the lines, and between the lines of that carefully crafted answer was a deep-seated wish to stay near him.

And he liked that.

He liked that a lot.

* * *

Papyrus instructed you to the bed upon getting back to his apartment, and you didn’t bother arguing. In fact, you even fell asleep in his sweatshirt, flats slipping off your feet as you crashed as hard as you could, your cute little face pressed hard against the pillow.

He tacked Gabriel’s phone number onto a messy bulletin board filled with contacts and pictures. His assignment had been to recruit you to their side--who knew that by doing something as small as caring for someone who needed it he would earn them an allied group nearly as big as the Hellhounds and twice as smart? Most of the Razorbacks are knife-happy idiots, but you aren’t and Gabriel knew a smart alliance when he saw one, so there should be some diamonds amongst the coal there. 

He made sure to update Sans, who seemed intrigued by the whole thing, and then when that was done, he was left to a quiet house as he packed the groceries away at his own pace. He pulled out a plate and loaded it with cheese, nuts, and a Yo-gro, a monster yogurt snack made specifically for healing. He placed it on the bedside table for when you woke, and collapsed on the couch with a sigh.

One day you’ll leave. He knows it’s inevitable, and even if he charms you and your friends to their side there’s no guarantee for anything. He had gone into this with a mission and ended up with a side order of feelings on accident. And he knows, he  _ knows _ it isn't wise to get attached, not to humans, and if Sans knew he would be thinking these things then he would never have let him take you in.

Because attachment and feelings means passion, and passion means weakness. All anyone would have to do is figure it out and threaten you, and it would either snap him or bring him to his knees, and that is weakness they can't afford in this battle.

He chuckled, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his skull. There's no doubt that, logically,  the best course of action would be to separate himself from you--it would keep you safe and him invulnerable.

He got up and strode over to the bed with purpose, helping your flats off and sliding in beside you, curling around you as if to challenge the world.

Who needs logic?


	13. *A Terrible Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You decide that you can risk it to see your man.  
> Unfortunately, it's just what you expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUBIOUS CONSENT WARNING. Skip everything after the coffeeshop if you don't want to see it, summary in the end notes.  
> Additional tags in end notes, too, to avoid spoilers.

You should have known it would happen sooner or later. You'd only been hoping it was later.

Your phone flashed with unread messages from Camden, messages you know you should answer before he gets upset.

He'd decided you'd had enough time, it seemed--that or he was fighting with his wife, or she was out of town, which always meant he'd pay extra attention to you for a while.

You sighed and swiped your lock screen open, figuring you'd at least read them.

 

**Bae:** Hey cutie how's the healing going?

**Bae:** Been awfully worried with the radio silence. Makes me think you might be in more trouble than you say.

**Bae:** Where are you staying? I'd like to see you.

 

Well...that all seemed innocent enough. But you weren't going to give him Papyrus’ address...you'll have to think of something else.

 

**(xxx):** I'm alright. Feeling good enough to walk around mostly normal.

**(xxx):** I think I'll be moving soon to a hospital or back home, so I can see you then.

 

It would be a few days before he figured out that wasn't true, and by then he'd be over his little urge to pretend he cares.

 

**Bae:** Why can't I see you now

**(xxx):** I'm not well still and I look like shit lol

**Bae:** Never stopped us before

 

_ “i'll always tell ya the truth, an’ the truth is, yer a knockout.” _

_ “you look good.” _

_ “we're all still learning.” _

 

**(xxx):** You could at least tell me you think I probably look fine

**Bae:** u just said u look like shit, not me.

**(xxx):** Doesn't mean it wouldn't be nice to hear

**Bae:** aww babe u know I'd tap that 😍

 

Your fingers itched to tell him off, to tell him it isn't the same, that there are people who think you look good and you don't need that kind of negativity disguised as a compliment.

But you knew it wouldn't matter. You take what you can get.

 

**Bae:** Can you get away for like an hour? Meet me in town? Just wanna see you and know you're as okay as you say

 

That's...reasonable, right? Papyrus was out, and had told you he would be for a while today. Big meeting between Sirius and the Razorbacks, now that they're teaming up. Means there wouldn't be anyone about to bother you…

 

**(xxx):** I need to get dressed...but sure. Usual place in an hour?

**Bae:** Deal. See u then.

* * *

This is a terrible idea.

You know it is. You've had lots of terrible ideas before and this was definitely one of them.

In your defense, sneaking out was a bit of a heavy term for what you were doing. You told Granny and gave her the coffeehouse's number, and you'd made up the bed and tidied the apartment first so Papyrus wouldn't worry you'd been kidnapped. You even left a note on the pillow that you'd be back soon.

You smoothed your curls, happy they were behaving for once, and admired your hood in the mirror before you left. It really did suit you, like a little cape. You pulled the roomy hood up and stepped outside, locking it with the spare key Granny lent you.

Then it was down to the street where you had to try and decide where the heck you were.

Luckily for you you recognized a cross street, and you weren't far from your destination. You started off strong...and found yourself lingering by the door.

What if he hates the hood? What if he comments on how much weight you've gained? Thanks to Papyrus’ insistence you had to have gained a few pounds at least. Would he laugh at your green pajamas underneath the long hood? You hadn't thought about it because you'd had nothing else, but it did seem silly to meet him looking like you just rolled out of bed.

You could see him through the window, and it only made you feel more self-conscious. He was primly dressed, a crisp button-up rolled up to the elbows and his dark hair perfectly windswept. He looked like he was modeling wristwatches.

You slipped through the door when someone else did, too nervous to open it yourself, and just when you considered turning to run, those gorgeous eyes caught yours.

He smiled brightly at you and you blushed, fidgeting with the bottom hem of the poncho-like garment. He stood as you scooted closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead that made your breath hitch.

“This is cute,” he remarked, running his fingers over the fabric of your hood, tracing your shoulder gently. Instantly you were smiling, and he chuckled. “There's my girl. Sit, let me get you something to drink.”

You sat obediently, smiling to yourself as you did. The hood was a good choice, after all. It  _ was _ cute, thank you very much, and best of all it hid those extra pounds exceptionally well.

He ordered you a coffee, and even though he got your favorite wrong, anything was better than SeaTea. You drank it like a fish starved of water, black and bitter because you passed on the sugar.

“I've got to say, you don't look like someone who's been shot,” he remarked. “Doesn't a wound like that take time to heal?”

“I've been helped out a bit by healing magic,” you admitted, before gently pushing down the hood and shirt to show him the messy scar and still-healing hole. “Sorry, I know it's not pretty.”

He only hummed, and you knew if you'd kept it to yourself he likely would have thought you were lying.

“I told you, didn't I? All that gang nonsense will get you killed. You're beyond lucky to have a second chance.”

“I know, it was pretty dumb,” you agreed weakly, keeping it to yourself that you were only trying to earn enough cash to get out of that life.

“Dumb is an understatement,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “But that's okay, I still love you.”

You felt warm immediately, stuttering out a quiet reciprocation. If he loved you so much, why was he still with his wife? You kept that question to yourself.

After all, it wasn't like you didn't already know the answer.

“How long do you have before you need to get back to where you're resting up?” He asked, sipping his Americano.

Hours. Easily three or four.

“An hour, maybe an hour and a half.”

“More than enough time,” he hummed, sliding his hand over and slipping something into yours with a wink.

You didn't even need to look to know it was a hotel key. But you peeked anyway--Bayview Suites. Fairly nice, but you know he could do so much better. He had so many miles and hotel time on his cards that he hadn't paid for a room at a 5-star hotel in four years. Still, it was more than he'd done for you in a while, choosing instead to just visit your place or a seedy motel. You supposed he wasn't worried about being seen right now, which means Jennifer must be away for the week.

“What, can't wait for a girl to finish her coffee first?” You joked, smiling coquettishly at him.

He chuckled, scooting closer in the booth, his hand sliding up your knee with calculated precision.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, a slight shake in your body as you responded spectacularly to his touch.

“No...I really can't.”

* * *

You hummed and flopped your feet on the bed, waiting for him to be done with his phone call on the balcony.

He'd led you to the room with a promise not to peek, and when you opened your eyes he'd laid out a soft, lacy panty set with a matching bra just for you. So now your hood hung near the door, your pajamas folded neatly next to your flats as if to remind you that the you on the bed was not true. Well, when had being you ever gotten you anywhere? It's better to be what they want.

Between your fingers you flicked one of the condoms he'd placed on the bedside table, watching the foil glint in the afternoon light. You tore it open carefully, placing it between your lips so you could entice him by putting it on with a deep throat when he stepped in.

…

Is that air you feel?

You pulled the condom out of your mouth to inspect it, and sure enough, there was a teensy hole near the tip. Well. Bummer.

You tossed it in the trash and picked up the other one, inspecting it just as closely.

Huh.

This one had a little hole, too.

“Sorry about the call, babe. Ready to get dirty?” He asked, voice low and inviting from behind you as he kissed up your spine.

“No,” you sighed, tossing the condom beside it's defective twin. “Did you have another condom, handsome?”

He mumbled a ‘no’ against your shoulder, your stomach doing flips and heart pounding as he ground against you, his arousal pressing against your ass through his boxer-briefs.

You moaned and momentarily got lost in the feeling of his lips on your body, and for a long moment there was nothing but heavy petting, and he rolled you over to kiss your neck and squeeze your tits.

“Can't wait to be inside you, baby, I missed this,” he purred, only for you to stop him, breathless, as he went to remove the panties. “What? What, what's wrong?”

“Condoms, Cam, they have holes,” you huffed. “I think you had a defective pack.”

He huffed and sighed, smoothing his hair back slightly. “Uh. Okay. I only had those ones. You're on the pill, right?”

“Not since I got shot,” you admitted quietly. “Thought about it but I'm pretty sure they'd be just as useless as if I was on antibiotics with the magic healing.”

“That's fine,” he shrugged, waving the notion away. “We'll just do the morning-after pill, yeah?”

“Oh...okay.”

It wasn't really, there was a lot of 'ifs’ in the morning-after pill, and you're not only the mistress, but also terrified of the idea of pregnancy and if you can double up, you do. The idea that for even a few hours there was a possibility he could get you pregnant? Not only did that mean hell for you and him but it also made you ill, thinking of how big you'd have to get.

“No, wait, actually,” you squeaked as he kissed down your body, avoiding the wound. “Cam, I--”

He silenced you with a kiss, and you kissed him back, unwilling to anger him over a little insecurity. He moved his hand between your legs, quick and purposeful. He was rough, and normally you were into that, but right now it felt like it was burning you, so unused to that attention and turned off by anxiety. You couldn't help but think of Papyrus’ gentle touch, polite and respectful despite how lewd and flirty he could be. You squirmed against your lover's hand, and he took it completely the wrong way, chuckling as if proud of himself and doubling down on his movements, forcing a finger past your lower lips.

You jumped and yelped at the rough treatment, and thankfully he stopped moving, pausing to look over you as he removed his hand.

“You're not enjoying this,” he sighed.

You shook your head. “I-I'm sorry, I'm just...I'm too sore to be handled roughly. Maybe just, a little softer?”

More kisses? Some actual fucking foreplay for once? Make you feel like he actually liked you?

...Papyrus made you feel pretty. He made you feel wanted and valid and like he enjoyed your presence. Why your lover can't do that, you don't think you'll ever know.

“Come on, babe, you love it rough,” he hummed, kissing your shoulder. “What's the matter? Are you shy about those extra pounds, baby? You know I don't care, you're so sexy anyway…”

You let him praise you, embarrassed by how much it worked. Eventually you gave in, and with a little coaxing he had his way with you. You didn't hate it, so that was good, but even after he gave you the pill and dropped you back at the coffee shop, you felt severely disappointed by the experience. 

But is that really surprising? Sex was for the guy's pleasure--you did just as well for yourself with your hands.

But you didn't even feel like picking up that slack today.

You sat at a table and pulled your hood up, and whether you forgot that you were supposed to go back or were too exhausted to care, or maybe too embarrassed to face Papyrus, you weren't sure.

By the time the bell on the door jingled, and Papyrus stepped through, you were asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warnings: Bad sex, dub-con, fingering, unprotected sex
> 
> Summary: Camden uses your insecurities to talk you into unprotected sex you aren't in the mood for, giving you the morning-after pill and then dropping you back at the coffee shop.


	14. Fool for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus gets a glimpse of how deep your conditioning goes, and realizes he's going to do everything he can to undo it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: morning after pill, implied possible abortion, body dysmorphia, rape/dub-con mention, forced breeding mention
> 
> Man that's quite the list. When did this become a psychological thriller?  
> Lots of healing or beginnings of it in this chapter, though!

Papyrus was furious. He was  _ livid. _

He'd come home, and you were just  _ gone, _ a silly vague note and just fucking  _ gone. _ True that he had never explicitly told you you couldn't leave, in fact had made it clear you weren't trapped, but that didn't mean he was prepared for you to actually take off!

It’d been such a long meeting that he’d been looking forward to coming home and unwinding with you, but now he was tenser than he’d been when he’d left Muffet’s.

But you’d left every indication that you were coming back--your phone, the rest of your things, the note--so he parked it on the couch and waited, watching the TV with a scowl, smoking, and thinking of how he could gently phrase his anger. At least it gave him time to calm down.

But then you didn’t come back. And his anger waned in favor of genuine worry, and after a few hours he pulled on his coat and hit the pavement, flipping the coin between his fingers as he regretted not using it on something of yours, thinking he'd save it for something he could gift you when you were finally healed. He hadn’t even considered you might wander off, seeing as you’d panicked so much upon leaving the house for the market the other day. How was he supposed to know you’d leave of your own volition without talking to him?

You smelled enough like him to be a target, but not enough that other monsters should fear he was nearby. How hilarious that the very thing that would keep you safe was the same thing that could get you killed or kidnapped. He wouldn’t put it past someone to pull you off the street, recognizing you or your hooded capelet from the market with him.

He figured he’d start with the coffeeshop Granny had mentioned. That’s where you’d said you were going--if you weren’t there, he had no clue what he would do. Maybe someone nearby knew where you went that he could shake some info from?

He paused outside the coffeeshop and sighed, relief flooding him. Looks like he didn’t have to run off on some sort of hunt. You were right there, head down on the table and your hood obscuring most of you.

The bell jingled as he stepped inside, and he waved to the barista, a fish monster named Sheila that he knew quite well. She didn’t question him when he approached you, and he realized fairly quickly you were asleep. He sat in the booth next to you to shake you gently, and you made a little noise but didn’t wake.

Ugh, you  _ stink. _ His own scent and the scent of his home had been wiped away, covered up by some high-end cologne and scent of a human, and the stench of sex--bad sex, if he was right, and he usually was. Aside from the scent you were just...gray. Your aura, your posture, even while sleeping, was melancholy and gray.

Any hint of anger he may have still had melted away instantly. Something awful had gone down, even if you didn’t realize it. Maybe from your perspective, it really wasn’t that bad, but it was, and he could feel it. It had made your soul a tiny bit heavier.

He ran a hand over your shoulder and down your back, using magic to scan you for intoxicants. One thing he was good at was sniffing out drugs--he’d certainly sniffed enough of them in his time, before he’d cleaned up his act.

Nothing out of the ordinary that he didn’t already expect to be in your body. For some reason, that almost unsettled him more.

“...let’s go home and get cleaned up, little rabbit.”

* * *

“Are you mad at me?”

Papyrus placed down the plate of snacks. “eat something and rest.”

You regarded him with a scrutinous eye, one he was certain you had honed for years to avoid triggering whatever behaviors you were so afraid of from who-knows-who. Even bathed and dressed in one of his henleys as your pajamas tumbled in the washer, you still smelt vaguely of that expensive cologne.

He aimed to change that.

“...You’re mad.”

He didn’t justify that with an answer, returning to the kitchen to gather your SeaTea and the chocolate muffin he’d set aside. It’s true that he was upset still, but that wasn’t what you needed right now. You needed understanding and a little distraction, and if he wanted to get through your defenses and find out what happened and how to fix it, he couldn’t do anything that would make you cut him off.

“I’d be mad at me, too, I guess,” you shrugged as he set the tea and muffin down. Your snack plate was untouched. He wondered if feeding it to you would work.

“i’m just glad you’re safe,” he said honestly, sliding the plate closer. “and i’d be happier if you ate.”

That did the trick, and you ate a few cheese cubes in silence. He pretended to read his book, bringing you back to the comfortable quiet you were used to. He laid his hand on the bed, near enough for you to touch but not touching yet. Open.

You nudged it with your knee, testing, and he responded by squeezing your knee and leaving his hand there. He felt some of the tension leave your body…

...and then came the tears.

They were different than the tears from the previous panic, sort of slow and choking, making you breathe shakily. He made no sudden movements as he moved forward, climbing into the bed and pulling you against his chest so you could cry properly. You buried your face in his shirt, and the crying was muffled as he wrapped his arms around you and listened to your teary confessions.

The boyfriend.

He should have known. Something wasn't right about that guy from the beginning, but you were naive and fragile and easy to trick, and so he'd lured you in. That explained the cologne, and the smell of bad sex.

He gently ran a finger down your spine as you confessed, freezing only when you mentioned trying to stop it.

“...what was that last bit?” He asked, calm and slow. He kept the venom from his voice, not keen to startle you into defending him.

“Uh, well, he didn't have any condoms--well, he did, but they were no good, so I tried to say no because...well, he told me he'd give me the morning-after pill, which he did! So--”

“no, he didn't.”

You stopped, looking quizzically up at him. He allowed the movement, leveling a very serious look on you.

“i checked you for drugs the moment i saw you in the coffee shop,” he said seriously, a hand on your shoulder keeping you in place. “listen, i know my pharmaceuticals. either he gave you a sugar pill placebo or you got a dud plan b, because there's nothing out of the ordinary in your body.”

He gripped your other shoulder and looked you dead in the eyes before you could panic. He'd pieced it together, and he was sure you had, but you needed someone else to tell you.

“maybe i don't know everything, but i'm pretty good with picking apart a motive. it's not likely those condoms were useless by fluke. and he probably guessed you'd be on antibiotics, nullifying whatever you usually take. and he was pushy and bullied you into it,” he said firmly. “that sounds like someone was  _ tryin’ _ t'get you pregnant, darlin’. not only that, but it was dubious consent at best.”

He'll kill him. Fuck, he's seein’ red already. He hasn't raised his LV in two years and it would probably trigger an episode, but he can already see the blood and hear his satisfying cries for mercy.

But you need him, first.

You couldn't believe that. Could you?

Papyrus had never lied to you. He'd even promised he would always tell you the truth. His blunt approach was sorely needed, and hearing it from someone outside of the issue was grounding for you. Somehow you staved off the panic, his hands on your shoulders providing a sense of safety that let you think a little more logically than you normally would.

“Why would he do that?” You managed.

“i don't have an answer for ya, darlin’.”

You sat back on your heels, and he let you go as you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling violated and confused. Wouldn't getting you pregnant be nothing but bad news for him? Why would he not only want that, but try to trick you into it?

“Papyrus?” He made a noise that indicated he was listening. “Could you...I mean, if it's true I didn't take it, is there some way you could get me a morning-after pill?”

“of course,” he said with a shrug. “do ya one better--i'll get the monster one. it'll work, 100%.”

“There's a monster one?” You asked, cocking your head. “I thought monsters could only reproduce if both parents were ready?”

“doesn't stop us from improving on stuff humans might need,” he clarified. “undyne's been trying t'get it past the feds, but i promise it's safe.”

You nodded, trusting him. He climbed out of the bed, putting the muffin in your hand pointedly before turning to grab his coat and shoes.

“won't be gone more'n a few minutes, but just in case, my number's in your phone now.” He turned to you and winked cheekily, making you smile. “eat that muffin, drink that tea. and we'll watch somethin’ dumb when i get home.”

“Wait!”

He waited, clearly about to vanish, standing a few feet away.

“What if I'm already pregnant?” You asked quietly.

There was so much fear in that statement, years of self-loathing and body dysmorphia and he could  _ hear it. _

“you're not,” he reassured you. A small lie--he had no way of knowing that from where he stood, but he also knew that once he gave you the pill it wouldn't matter if you were or not. “even if you were, it's 100%. okay? eat. i'll be back.”

* * *

The side effects were fleeting but intense. He made sure to document it all for Undyne as he listened to you retch in the bathroom. He would have been in there with water or something, and he'd left some for you, but he knew you wouldn't want eyes on you.

His attempts at getting you to eat were quite literally going down the drain.

He sighed and reclined on the bed, rubbing his sockets. God, he was so tired. This whole ordeal was exhausting. Not you, no, he didn't blame you even a little bit--just the situation.

For one, he had a preoccupying hate for your boyfriend. Now, he'd already promised himself not to bring him up anymore, so he won't, but he really, really hoped you would be smart about this and ghost the guy. Fuck, he'll help you cut him out, even if you forbade violence he could be very persuasive. You deserved so much better than...hmm, asshole seems too nice a word. In any case, you were way out of that guy's league.

Side note, and this isn't nearly the most important thing, but the fact that the sex had been  _ bad _ was another thing that bugged him. You took the whole thing so well, comparatively to pretty much any other stressful thing, which means two things:

  1. He's done this before, to the point where dubious consent and being left unpleasured is considered normal in your mind. You think you don't deserve better sex, or even enthusiastically consensual sex.
  2. You've somehow separated the horrible things that guy does to you from the natural responses you're inclined towards, effectively trapping yourself by ignoring your body's fight or flight.



Both of those are worrying, but especially the idea that you don't think you deserve better. You were basically raped and almost forcibly bred, and that didn't even phase you, but leaving the house without a clear idea of where you were going caused a panic?

It was obvious you had compartmentalized his abusive behaviors to save yourself the stress. The human brain was an interesting creature. But it did mean that de-normalizing this was going to be difficult to do without completely breaking you. And it would be a long, long time before you were any sort of “normal”--he'd been doing his routine to sort his trauma for two years, and he wasn't even scratching “normal”.

You crawled back into the bed, sheepish as he looked over at you, and he snagged you by the waist and pulled you in before you could fool yourself that he didn't want to touch you. If you would have hesitated, he definitely would have let you go, but you clung to him, making a tired little noise as you reciprocated the affection. After a moment, you were safely tucked beneath his chin, soft breaths tickling his collarbone as you drifted off, and he realized that he wouldn't mind sorting through your trauma with you.

Even if it took years, at least it was years in good company. Maybe he's a fool, but that sounded pretty nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, guys, just smooch already 👀


	15. Emotional Support Cat(s)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus takes you home to grab a few things, and you have a hard time separating his basic decency from the manipulation you've been through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! Sorry for no double feature yesterday, I instead wrote this monstrosity that has twice as many words and no decent place to cut it.  
> There's no trigger warnings not already in the base tags, so just remember at this point it is a heavy trauma recovery story!

“let's go out today.”

You looked up at Papyrus from where you lay, legs propped up on the wall and head in his lap as he played some game on his Switch.

“Out? Together?” You asked, absently playing with the string of his hoodie. “Thought I was on lockdown.”

“i never said that,” he reminded you, taking his hand off the controller momentarily to pinch your nose playfully. “i only said you should talk to me first next time. so. wanna go somewhere?”

“Where'd you have in mind?”

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment, picking his wording carefully. “i think we should stop by your place. just to get you some clothes and check on your cat.”

You  _ did _ miss Hobbes something fierce. He was well taken care of, spoiled even, seeing as Kyle kept sending you pictures of him napping in sunbeams and eating wet food galore.

“You just wanna get rid of me,” you accused playfully. “No fair, using my cat.”

The sound of the Switch clicking off drew your attention, and you looked up at him curiously as he set it aside.

“i don’t wanna get rid of ya. in fact, i’m dreading the day you have to leave.” His smile was more sincere than teasing, and it gave you pause to wonder if maybe he might actually be serious right now. “figure if i have more of your stuff here then you’ll either get bored of me slower or leave stuff behind so you have an excuse to come back.”

“I won’t get bored of you before you get bored of me,” you laughed, rolling over and sitting up.

“oh, good,” he hummed, catching your chin with his forefinger and thumb, a teasing glint in his sockets. “then you’ll never get tired of me, because i’ll never get tired of you.”

You pulled away with a surprised jerk, and he chuckled and didn’t pursue.

Did he really feel that way?

“the answer's yes, i really mean it,” he clarified, stretching as he stood with a groan. “man, where'd i put my shoes?”

“By the couch,” you said softly, pointing at his boots. You smiled as you watched him shove his feet into them with no regard for the tongues, hopping on one foot, then the other to get comfortable.

Because using hands is overrated, right?

...you might love him.

* * *

Your street was closer to the monster district than he thought, and he was grateful. In case of an emergency it wouldn't take long to get someone from the gang over here to help you.

He took a mental note of the little cat statue next to the door as you removed a spare key from it to unlock your door.

“Hobbes, I'm home!”

Insistent mewing was heard the moment you closed the door behind him, along with a rhythmic jingle as a little calico kitty wearing a bell collar appeared from around the corner.

“my god, he's adorable,” Papyrus gasped quietly as Hobbes rubbed and pawed at your legs, stretching and mewing until you finally picked him up. Loud, engine-like purring filled the air as he snuggled into you, bumping your cheek until you showered him with kisses, absolutely pliant in your hands. “look at the tiny toe beans!”

The moment his finger touched the toes in question, Hobbes extended his paws and gripped it, pulling it closer so he could rub his head all over it. The tiny gasp the tall monster let out was enough to make you giggle.

“Here, maybe you can keep him busy while I pack up a few things.”

“oh, challenge accepted,” he cooed as you dumped the calico into his arms. “oh, oh! he's so small!”

“Yeah, I feed him like crazy but I just don't think he's getting any bigger,” you chuckled, tearing your eyes away from Hobbes and his new biggest fan to move down the hall to your bedroom.

You hummed to yourself as you packed a few things into your duffel bag. Jeans, shirts, yoga pants--something other than pajamas was going to be nice. This is much better than clothes shopping--at least you already know you look passable in these.

You peeked into the living room as you passed to the bathroom, finding a smile on your face at Papyrus on the ground, dangling a feather toy in Hobbes’ face. His eyelights were blown wide with glee, and you wondered if maybe he might pounce on it instead.

The bathroom wasn't exactly a necessary stop, you supposed. Papyrus had provided a toothbrush and stuff, but there was a well-loved robe you wanted.

...your eyes drifted to the medicine cabinet.

You opened it just to survey the insides, telling yourself to at least look.

1-a-day vitamins went in your bag, and a bottle of weight loss supplements. You ignored the unused pack of hair ties bought before your break down and grabbed the birth control pills like they were a lifeline. You weren't ignoring them anymore, magic antibiotics or no.

You stared at the bottle of lorazepam sitting on the second shelf, your name typed in neat letters on the side.

_ One a day for acute anxiety and panic attacks. _

You had gotten this at Kyle's behest, after he insisted very gently that you talk to someone after your breakdown. Afraid of being placed on suicide watch, you'd accepted the prescription with a smile. You should be on your first refill, but you haven't even taken one.

Maybe it would make you feel better, but you don't know for sure, and ironically that makes you panic worse. You took it and put it in the bag, knowing it was the right thing to do.

One last stop in the bedroom to grab the one thing you've been missing the most--your baby blanket. The one you'd shared with Eliza every day until the day you lost her.

You paused to take in the scent, vaguely clean laundry detergent and a hint of something colorful, just like her personality.

Deep breath. She's still here, in a way.

“Rus, are you ready?”

You rounded the cover and found him in the floor, with Hobbes curled up on his chest and purring away, sound asleep.

“go on without me. succeed where i failed,” he said solemnly, stroking the soft fur on his back. “i have been immobilized.”

You giggled and set your bag down, scooping up the sleepy animal with care. He mewled and stretched, but stayed asleep against your arm. “My sweet baby.”

“we can take him back if you want,” Papyrus offered. “i don't mind. clearly.”

“Your landlord would be cool with it?”

“eh. fuck 'em if they ain't.”

You snickered, scritching Hobbes’ little face as he purred away in your arms. “Could you get his carrier? It's behind the couch.”

Papyrus sat up and pulled himself upright, looking behind the couch in question and pulling out a trendy carrier. He chuckled to himself as he unfolded the hard bottom and pulled it into shape--of course you'd have one of those fancy dog purses for your cat.

He looked back at you, carrying Hobbes on your shoulder like the lazy baby he obviously was as you collected his teensy glass food and water dishes and a box of cat food from one of the cupboards. You were talking to the cat in a low voice, the smile on your face absolutely radiant with happiness.

How had he not thought about it the first time you'd mentioned the cat? It was obvious to anyone who had eyes that the cat was an emotional support animal to you, whether or not he had the registration to prove it.

“y'coulda asked about the cat sooner,” he mentioned as he brought the carrier over. “it wouldn't have been a burden t'check on him.”

You shrugged, and didn't answer, and he let it go. His whole motive today had been to gently breach the subject of home without making you freak out, and he accomplished that, so he figured it was a success.

* * *

A half an hour later, you were walking around his apartment, Hobbes in hand as you happily showed him where everything was, much to Papyrus’ amusement.

“Hobbes approves,” you said, comically stoic as you held the cat up underneath his front legs like the Lion King. He mewed in agreeance and it earned a chuckle from your friend.

Friend? Acquaintance? You didn’t see him as a warden or captor anymore, but were those really words you could use to describe him? Did he see you as a burden or a captive, or as a friend? Maybe he even saw you as more...but then again, he’d said you would know it for sure if he was flirting with you, and so you dropped that thought as quickly as it appeared to spare yourself the embarrassment.

“good. i’m glad.” He gestured you over to the couch, and you went without thinking, allowing your little bundle of fur to leap from your arms and explore for a second time, this time by himself.

“Thank you. For letting me keep him here.”

“no dust off my back, an’ it makes ya happy.”

Ah. So it was a means of keeping you comfortable. You smiled weakly at him as he turned on the TV, trying not to read too much into that. After all, he was pretty clear about it--he’d said he hoped having your stuff here would keep you here. Camden had done the opposite, making it seem like having his stuff at your place was a privelege you may never see, but the effect was the same, leaving you feeling a little disheartened.

Are you jaded? You’re pretty sure friends are supposed to want you around and do nice things that make you happy. But all you can think of is the way he phrased it, like it was going to trap you here, which you didn’t doubt he would be looking to do after your little stunt the other day with Cam.

“what’s that look for?” he asked, turning down the volume on the television. “somethin’ i said?”

“Oh! Uh, no, I’m fine,” you lied, scratching at the back of your ear gently as you avoided his gaze. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

“i may be many things, darlin’, but i’m not dumb.”

You flinched at the accusation, knowing you were caught. “I don’t...I don’t think you’re dumb.”

“no, i know you don’t,” he hummed, leaning forward and resting his head on his hand to look at you sideways. “so let’s cut the middle bit and you just tell me what’s eatin’ ya?”

You shook your head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.” Not to mention ungrateful.

“your feelings are never stupid.”

The intensity of the statement surprised you, and the owlish stare he got in return almost made him laugh. He sat up, making sure his face looked serious enough to convince you.

“what you’re feeling is real, even if the cause is less than just. i won’t push you, but if you bury your negative feelings then we’ll never figure out how to prevent them.”

You gave him an unconvinced look. “...you sound like a shrink.”

“thanks, i got it from mine.” He grinned at you, and you laughed a little, reminding him that he really,  _ really _ loved that noise.

“I didn’t know you went to therapy.”

“mmm...not as much as i should. once a month, now, though it used t’be once a week.” He flicked out a cigarette and put it between his teeth, feeling more than slightly uncomfortable with how the conversation had subtly turned to him and his issues. “let’s just say i had daddy issues an’ leave it at that for now.”

“We have that in common, I guess,” you mumbled.

Well, that answered a lot of his questions. “we don't have to go that deep. just tell me how i upset ya so i can fix it.”

You shrugged and squirmed a bit, eyes flicking to where Hobbes was was lounging on the tiny coffee table. With one long arm, Papyrus plucked the cat from the table and deposited him in your lap, both of you smiling as the little guy twisted and mewed, before batting at Papyrus’ fingertips.

The effect was instantaneous--as soon as Hobbes began to purr you relaxed.

“I just...I feel like maybe I'm reading too much into everything, but when you said it made me happy so it was okay...it felt like you were only doing this to keep me here.”

“is it bad if i want to keep you here?” He asked.

You shrugged. “I guess it depends on the context, so I probably should have brought it up instead of being an idiot about it.”

“you're not an idiot,” he clarified. “you've been through some harrowing stuff, the least of which is things that won't be mentioned and nearly dying. not to mention you’ve had a pretty core belief of monsters in general thrown out the window.”

Feels like a lot of your life has been manipulated, to the point where you hadn’t even considered that the Razorbacks were actually your friends, and had believed the only person who might care about your disappearance was the one person Papyrus was sure didn’t. It was natural, then, that you might start to wonder if his kindness was manipulative, too, in order to get you on his side or get you to keep quiet. And while that had been the initial mission, he definitely wasn’t about to lie and say that was all it was--he was generally a pretty genial guy to begin with, especially when it came to a powerful set of puppy-dog eyes like the pair on you, and he could have easily refused the job if his heart wasn’t in it--Sans wouldn’t have questioned it, and nobody else would have dared tell him what to do.

But everything he’d done for you had been out of genuine interest, and that was hard for you to see--blinded as you were by malicious intentions lining every road to happiness you’ve ever walked on, it was difficult to see your change of heart for monsters as something the kindness in your soul desperately wanted instead of just another trick.

“So you’re not just keeping me here for...some nefarious plot?”

“no. i’m keeping you here because you’re injured and i enjoy your company.” He paused and smirked as he lit his cigarette. “the nefarious plots come later, and we get to plan them together.”

You snorted out a laugh and then he got to see that coy smile. God, that smirk. He loved that smirk.

He slung an arm around your shoulder and leaned in, sweet blueberry-scented smoke curling around him from between his teeth.

“better watch that little smirk of yours, little lady, or i might just kiss it one day,” he purred, just a dash of charm and a wink as he took another drag and leaned back, enjoying the cute crimson blush that quickly formed on your face.

You didn’t respond for a long moment, and he took it as a win, turning the TV back up with a smirk of his own.

He didn’t see the way your smile fell, or the puzzled look cross your face.

“I’m gonna head to bed,” you said after ten minutes or so, smiling up at him when he looked to acknowledge you. “Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“no promises, but i’ll be to bed at some point.”

You carried Hobbes to the bed and snuggled up with him, thoughtful.

_ “better watch that little smirk of yours, little lady, or i might just kiss it one day.” _

You stared at the ceiling, absently petting Hobbes as he purred quietly against your neck.

What the hell did he mean by that, you wondered?

Was that flirting? Was he flirting with you now? Or was it an attempt to derail the conversation? It would benefit him, if he were lying to you or manipulating you, if he could disarm you with a little charm or kiss.

...if he could silence every question with a simple kiss, if he could convince you he was telling the truth by buying you flowers…

...if he could, for example, trick you into doing something that made you uncomfortable for his own pleasure, just by appealing to your need to be wanted.

You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You’re comparing Papyrus to Cam, and you know that isn’t fair. He does a lot of things right, lets you set the pace, doesn’t force anything on you, talks things out patiently with you...he didn’t even tell you what to do after the incident with Cam the other day, even though you know he was dying to. He was protective but not stifling, and legitimately seemed to want to see you happy…

...so why can’t you just let him be good to you? Sure, you’re no looker and you’re a hot mess, but is it so hard to believe that someone might just like you anyway? Camden isn’t the only person who will ever look at you that way, that was just one of his many lies he always told you when you were weak, to keep you at his side. 

And it had worked, the bastard.

You sighed and sat up, sending Hobbes skittering off the bed, past where Papyrus was in the middle of removing his shirt. He pulled it off and adjusted the tank top underneath, looking up at you with a raised brow.

“hm? what's up, butter cup?” He asked, leaning over you slightly and searching your face for a clue.

You pushed up onto your knees and grabbed him by the shirt. His hands flew up, ready to yank you off, but instead his grip was loose as he waited for your next move.

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his cheekbone, soft enough to make time slow down and long enough to make him follow slightly as you pulled away.

“...what was that for?” He asked quietly.

You smiled at him as you sat back on the mattress.

“Oh, you know. Taking care of me, being so understanding, putting up with me.”

“well, if that's all, then lemme know how to earn some more,” he chuckled, dropping onto the mattress next to you.

“I have a few ideas,” you said vaguely, leaning in close. “You looking to open a line of credit?”

“i want you to give back whatever you like, whenever you feel comfortable,” he said seriously. “even if it means nothing and never, i will never force you to do anything. you will always have a choice.”

“You're really bad at dirty talk,” you giggled, blushing.

He smirked, shaking his head. “no, i'm not, i just want y't'feel comfortable with me.”

“Dude, I don't even feel comfortable with myself,” you laughed, leaning back against the wall. “...but thanks. And, uh, sorry I'm a mess.”

“i'm a bigger mess, but we make it work.” He smiled at you as he sank down and pulled the blankets up, offering his arm. You were quick to snuggle down, feeling a lot better about the situation since you talked it over.

He was gentle as you both adjusted, Hobbes reappearing to squeeze in between and spread out luxuriously. His fingers brushed through your hair affectionately and you were asleep within moments.

Papyrus chuckled as the snoring began, from both you and the cat, closing his sockets and wondering how in the hell he ended up like this--not only sharing a bed every night with a girl in a non-sexual way, but  _ liking  _ it.

His free hand came up, thumb brushing the spot your lips had touched so briefly…

...yeah. He has it pretty bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted them to smooch so bad but it just wasn't right yet 😩  
> Also I wanted to address Mutt! I feel like I'm getring back into his humor starting here, I've felt like he was out of character for a bit...BUT I reason it made sense to be because he's recovering from his own traumas and trying to help her through that, and With how she previously reacted to his flirting and her manipulative s/o he hates, he turned off the charm in favor of making her feel comfortable. and now that they're getting comfortable he's testing the waters again.  
> Just a little thing, but I felt maybe it didn't translate as well as I had hoped.  
> Also, the title, in case you didn't get it, was a reference to the fact that Papyrus is way more catlike than he thinks lol


	16. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus is still haunted by his trauma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Nightmares, medication, panic attacks

_ It's always so dark, so dusty in the caverns. _

_ His magic pumps furiously, confused and scared as he runs through the puddles with purpose. His missing tooth and cracked socket ache, marrow leaking into his mouth and tasting metallic and strange. His brother? Something about Sans… _

_ He stopped at the river, the only clean water in the underground, splashing it on his face and washing away the metallic tang in his mouth. When his hands fall and his reflection returns, his tooth is gold, and the other on the other side is, too. His cracks are healed and he looks sharper, angrier. _

_ He splashes it and ruins the reflection, angry that he doesn't see the soft, gentle creature he once was. How sweet and relaxed and round his features were when he first shed his stripes, magic a soft orange and Sans even softer, but now it was only purple, only reds and blues and melancholy. If he was more determined, more in control, less of a demon, he might have gotten away with a darker orange, something pleasant and strong--in his weakness it was all sadness and passivity, souring his orange towards blue and purple as his apathy and numbness took over. _

_ Sans is red. No, Sans is purple. Soft, pinkish purple, like wine--much stronger than him, more determined, despite his weaknesses. And it's his fault, because if he hadn't been so weak and useless then Sans never would have had to be strong, he could have been blue and soft and patient, he could have been happy and protected, but-- _

_ His reflection returns, and he sees the demon. Black, empty sockets with slivers of light for eyelights, a jaw unhinged and ready to devour, a spine that looked wrong and power so strong it turned the raindrops on his back into steam. _

_ The power he'd been given for his choices. For the decision to help the crown in exchange for his brother's life. Sans in armor, scowl on pointed teeth as he hunted enemies of the crown with his loyal pet. _

_ And he was scared. _

_ “Rus?” _

_ That voice? So far away, and when he tore his eyes from the reflection there was nobody there, but there were hands on him as his breath quickened, a snarl and a snap at invisible hands as the foreign voice called to him. _

_ A girl with long curls and amber eyes looked him in the socket as she held him down, his hand to her throat as she encouraged him. _

_ “If it's to save the ones you love, you have to make the choice.” _

_ He'd made that choice already once. _

_ “Choose! Who are you, Papyrus?” _

_ Not that. Not that creature! _

_ Suddenly she blinked, her eyes now hazel and scared, wide and desperate like she might run, her curls raining down as if severed by an invisible knife-- _

**_You._ **

“Rus?”

He snapped awake, his bones coated in sweat and hopelessly tangled in the blankets, and you were leaning over him with concern in your eyes, close to crying and your hands on his face, grounding him with the scent of you, of apples and vanilla and the cat and his little messy apartment above ground, and he tried to focus on you, disoriented and gripping your shoulder far too hard to be comfortable.

He let you go as if you burned him, moving swiftly from your grasp, and you moved and let him roll over, your hands ghosting over his spine as he dry heaved and tried not to upchuck magic everywhere.

“What can I do?” You asked softly, and he gestured to the bathroom.

“green bottle, medicine cabinet,” he managed, and you took off after that order, bringing his LV pills back swiftly. With a shaky hand he took it and tried to get one, but dropped it on the bedside table and they spilled everywhere. “shit!”

Gentle hands guided him back against the bed, and before he knew it one pill was pressed to his teeth, then a glass of water. He let you help him, gulping the pill down and draining the glass as you picked up the rest of the pills and returned them to their bottle.

He pulled his knees up to prop his elbows on them, pressing his palms to his sockets and trying to even his breathing as the treatment in the pills soothed his wild magic, the thumping of his soul waning in volume.

The nightmare faded. He couldn't even remember what it was about.

“Do you need anything else?”

He looked up quickly, and you flinched, and his soul sank. He must have looked  _ terrifying  _ when he was thrashing around, and if there was one thing he never wanted, it was for you to be afraid of him.

He sighed and gestured you closer, and you answered easily, crawling forward between his legs. He gently brushed your shoulder, pulling your sleeve down to investigate where he’d been gripping you…

No marks, thank the stars.

He sighed and let go, running both hands over your arms before bowing his head to rest on your shoulder. You let him, resting your cheek n his skull as he sat there, still as a stone.

“i coulda hurt you.”

“But you didn’t,” you said softly.

“that doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.” Your hands came up and pushed him off slightly, one cupping his cheekbone to make him look at you. “Rus...you could have hurt me a lot. You could have left me to die in that alley. You could have used my vulnerability against me countless times, could have left me hanging when I needed you, could have manipulated me and guess what? You didn’t. You saved me, you cared for me, you’ve dealt with everything that’s come with all of that. It matters to _me_.”

He said nothing at first, looking into your eyes and wondering what exactly he’d been thinking when he’d involved you in his mess.

But he’d meant what he’d said before bed--you’re both a mess, but you make it work.

“...guess i can’t argue with that,” he mumbled, eyes flicking to the pills on the bedside table. “still, i shoulda taken my pill yesterday or it wouldn’t have happened. the attack, not the nightmare, those happen anyway.”

“Don’t blame yourself, things happen,” you soothed, thumb brushing his cheekbone.

His hand came up to trap yours against his face, and he turned his head to nuzzle your hand with a sigh. “you don’t get it. i don’t take these, and i won’t be myself anymore. i’ll be a real monster. a demon.”

“I don’t think--”

“no. i’m serious.” He looked up at you sternly. “if you ever can’t get me to respond to my name, you run. you hear me? you run as fast as you can, to granny’s house or the police or my brother if you can.”

“Papyrus…”

“promise me.”

You stared into his sockets, searching for any hint of a lie or joking. Finding none, you nodded slowly. “I promise.”

“good. good.” He reached up and ran a hand through your hair, cupping the back of your head and smirking at you. “hey, don’t look so worried. s’long as i take these i’ll be fine, just gotta set a timer or somethin’.”

“I’ll remind you,” you insisted. A thought seemed to cross your mind, and you made a face. “I guess, if you’ll take yours...I’ll take mine, too. Fair?”

He hadn’t even known you had medication to take--but it made sense, considering how acute your anxiety is. He smiled at you and ruffled your hair.

“fair. y’wanna go back to sleep, or y’wanna get up?”

You hummed and looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was only 5am, but you were wide awake now. “Can’t say I’ll sleep, but I’d like to stay in bed with you.”

“sounds about right,” he said, yawning a bit as you adjusted the bedsheets and somehow snuggled in together once more. “thanks for wakin’ me up. can’t have been fun.”

“I was just worried...it sounded like you were in pain.”

Hobbes appeared at the end of the bed, likely flung off during the nightmare and ready to reclaim his place between you two. He sat squarely on Papyrus’ chest and mewed, tucking his legs underneath.

“hmph. cat-loaf.” He observed, scritching his chin. You giggled, and he closed his eyes, listening to that sound. He loved that sound.

When you both woke up for good today, he would take you somewhere nice to eat.

But for now, he just enjoyed the feeling of you by his side. Lord knows it might not always be there...he wanted to remember it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of the same but i'm a sucker for fluff. I promise it'll start moving forward soon.  
> How about that nightmare, though?


	17. One Man's Trash is Another Man's Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus takes you to the Flea Market to play a game. It doesn't go as expected, but then again, when does it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh this is pretty long, hope you guys like it! A lot going on in this chapter but it's all worth it.  
> The usual warning that this is a trauma-based story, I suppose!

“Where are we going?” You giggled as Papyrus pulled you through the crowded streets of the monster district.

“you’ll see,” he said cryptically, smiling back at you with confidence you only wished you could have.

To be fair, he’d held you to your word and you’d taken your medicine when you woke up, and now you  _ did _ feel better than usual. The surprise of this whole excursion would normally worry you in spite of knowing you could trust him, but today you found yourself smiling as you walked quickly to keep up.

Eventually he pulled you in and clasped your shoulders, whirling you around to face another street, lined with vendors--

\--but instead of food, they were selling all sorts of odds and ends. A flea market of some sort? There were monsters and humans alike milling about, the smell of kettle corn, and booths upon booths of strange things.

“What’s this about?” You laughed, pushing your hood off your head.

“it’s a game.” He pushed a few coins into your hand. “find the weirdest thing you can find for under 5g, then we meet at the hotcat stand. weirdest item wins.”

“We’re separating?” You frowned. The idea was awesome, but you weren’t sure you liked it.

“stay close to me if you want, but this place is safe, okay? remember my friend al? she’s on duty today. ain’t gonna be any trouble on her watch.”

“Hmm...okay,” you assented, squeezing his hand before he dropped it, disappearing into the crowd with a wink. Knowing he was going to be around was nice--it wasn’t a huge market.

You moved through the booths, looking at the wares of each stall. You inspected a collection of doll-sized furniture for far longer than necessary, striking up a quiet conversation with the old man who ran the booth, named Jasper. You found out he’d been painting them by hand for years, since his daughter was young, and now that his daughter and granddaughters had outgrown them he was selling the excess not passed down to the great-grandchildren.

At another booth, there was paintings galore of exclusively one fat calico, run by an older woman who’s name happened to be Eliza. When you mentioned your sister, she expressed excitement that there were still young women with that name. You decided not to mention she had passed, and promised you’d come back to get a portrait of Hobbes someday.

Mannequins and mannequin pieces, vintage signs, you had forgotten exactly how much you enjoyed antiques and handmade weirdness. You ran your hands over soft, hand-woven fabrics, admired vintage sunhats, and smiled at the weird collections of dolls, all the while keeping an eye out for the weirdest item possible. You took pictures of clown statues for Kyle, knowing he’d absolutely hate them, and texted them with smiley faces and laughed at his responses.

You felt... _ good. _

It had been so long since you’d felt good. You were smiling, you were happy, there was nobody here to tell you you couldn’t be and even your own worries seemed far away.

You stopped dead in your tracks when you found the perfect item.

You paid for the doll quickly, determined to snatch it up--it was made of a doll head and limbs, but the body was a vintage coffee can. It was missing one eye and had a pink bow and you affectionately named it Carrie.

“Now I just have to go wait for Papyrus,” you said to yourself, smiling at the monstrosity in your hands. Man, this thing was gonna watch you sleep and you were already uncomfortable. It’s perfect.

You turned around to make your way back to the hotcat stand--

\--and ran directly into a woman who’d been walking nearby.

“Oh! Jeez, I’m so sorry!” You squeaked, holding the doll to your chest as you staggered back. The woman only laughed, waving you off.

“No, don’t worry! I should have been looking out.” She brushed her auburn hair behind her ear and placed a slender hand on her hip. Man, you wished you were that thin and pretty...she must be a model or something. “This place is pretty difficult to navigate, but it has the best things. Oh, like that doll! That’s awesome.”

“Oh, yeah,” you laughed, waving Carrie at her. “My friend and I are playing a game to find weird and awesome stuff.”

“I tried to get my husband to do that, but I think he’s only here to humor me,” she said, shaking her head with humor in her voice. “Oh, speak of the devil!”

“Jen, you know I hate it when you run off.”

Your heart and mood plummeted instantly. You knew that voice anywhere, and the moment the thought entered your mind, it was confirmed when Camden pushed past you and wound an arm around the beautiful woman’s waist.

“Sorry, I bumped into this poor girl and got distracted.” Jennifer said, kissing his cheek with her perfectly painted lips.

Camden’s eyes travelled to you, no hint of surprise present. He must have seen you talking already before coming over, but it didn’t change the fact that you suddenly felt like you were definitely not in a good situation.

“That’s...quite the find you’ve got there. And what a coincidence. Jennifer, this is Hazel, one of the interns at my work. Weird that you two would just bump into each other like this.” The tone was lightly accusatory, as if you had planned this, and you shrunk into yourself.

“Just a coincidence, sir,” you said quietly. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“Jen likes it here, so I go with her. They say behind every great man is a good woman, don’t they?”

“Oh, shut up,” Jennifer giggled as he pulled her in by the waist, kissing her temple.

You couldn’t feel any smaller. Couldn’t sink any lower. This had turned from the best day into the worst day in an instant, and you were fighting hard to keep from crying as you searched for a reason to escape the conversation.

You can see now, why he never left his wife for you. She was gorgeous, completely stunning, and thin and funny and had great hair. You were  _ none _ of those things, not even close. This model on his arm was a thousand times better than you on any day.

“hello, who’s this?”

Papyrus put a hand on your head affectionately, pulling you back against his chest. Where had he come from?? You’d thought for sure he’d have been across the market at the hotcat stand by now.

“I’m Camden, and this is my wife Jennifer,” Camden said smoothly, reaching out to offer his hand. Papyrus made no move to take it, and you looked up to see his smile was visibly strained. _Please, please don’t make a scene,_ you silently begged him.

“charmed. you know this one?” He asked, patting your head.

“She’s an intern at Cam’s company, right, dear?” Jennifer confirmed, and Cam nodded stiffly, a huge fake smile plastered on. “I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going and I ran right into her while shopping. I’d lose my head if it wasn’t screwed on!”

Cam’s eyes flicked from Papyrus to you for a brief moment--a question. An angry one. He had no idea who Papyrus was and was quickly trying to remember if you’d mentioned him--you hadn’t, for good reason, and now he knew you weren’t as bed-ridden as you’d been leading him to believe as well. God, this could not be worse.

“...And you are?” He asked finally.

“i’m rus, her outpatient nurse,” Papyrus said smoothly. “well, at least, i’m supposed to be. darn thing got me all mixed up and now i might just be her biggest fan instead. you’ve got a really,  _ really _ great intern there... _chief_.”

He lingered on the 'f' of chief for the briefest of moments, so it sounded properly disrespectful.

“Ah.” That was not a good look. You stepped back and Papyrus snagged your hand. “I trust she’ll be...back to work soon?”

“yeah, i’m thinkin’ not,” Papyrus said, his voice dropping half an octave, hand tightening on yours. “...but ultimately that’s her decision.”

“Well, she’s definitely an important member of our team, so I’d hate to see her lose her standing in the company.”

A thinly-veiled threat. You couldn’t breathe.

“oh, don’t you worry, boss, i’m taking  _ good _ care of her.” 

You blanched inwardly. Ugh. That was only going to make it worse!

“Well, uh, we have to go,” you squeaked, turning and pushing against Papyrus’ chest. He didn’t budge at first, but began to move when you pushed a little more insistently. “Nice to meet you, Jennifer!”

“You, too, Hazel!”

Once they were out of sight you let out a breath you’d been holding, a half-sob, a mixture of emotions swirling in your chest. Papyrus chuckled behind you, and your panic turned into anger.

He stopped in his tracks when you whirled around, a fire in your eyes he’d never seen before. “woah, hey, relax.”

“Relax?! You...you totally embarrassed me and probably just made things a million times worse!” You huffed, turning to stalk down an alley as heads began to turn. He followed calmly, until you stopped and put your face in your hands.

There was silence for a few minutes, and he sighed.

“say what’s on your mind,” he encouraged you.

“I don’t want to!” You sobbed, back still turned to him. He walked around to your front and you swiftly turned away from him again. Well, that’s irritating, but he didn’t mention it.

“ok, i embarrassed you. but that guy, he’s who i thought he was, right?” You nodded. “then i’m not even remotely sorry.”

That got you to look at him, a scowl as it was. “You’re an asshole.”

“no.  _ he’s _ an asshole. i don’t have to be nice to him, and whatever you decide doesn’t mean i have to agree, but--” He closed the distance and gripped your face, one hand on each cheek as you avoided his gaze. “--he hurt you. an’ i ain’t about to pretend i’m okay with that on any level.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, your hands covering his on your cheeks. He had a point, you know that, but you were still reeling from the whole interaction. You know, you  _ know _ you shouldn’t give a shit about Camden anymore. You still haven’t broken it off, but you’ve been good about not messaging him, either--you suppose you’d been hanging in some kind of limbo, hoping for someone else to give you the answer or for him to break it off himself so you didn’t have to.

“you deserve better than that, you know.”

“That isn’t for you to decide,” you accused, opening your eyes to glare at him. “That’s my decision! If I decide that’s the best I’m gonna get and decide to go with it, you don’t get to roll in there and fuck with it!”

You pushed his hands from your face and he frowned, letting you back off a few steps.

You gestured to yourself. “Look at me, Rus!”

“i am. i do, every day.”

“Then you get it! Even if you’re nice about it, I’m not exactly America’s Next Top Model, okay?” You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’m average at best, but most people at least have a personality to make up for it. I’ve got panic attacks. Who’s ever going to want that? Who’s going to look at me, with my pudge and my issues and my anxiety and say ‘hey, that’s pretty nice!’?”

“you’re kidding, right?” He asked, completely deadpan.

“See? Even you agree!” You huffed, throwing your hands up in exasperation, holding up Carrie. “I’m not a catch, or a find. I’m this doll, alright? I’m weird and ugly and nobody is ever going to buy into it simply because they like it, they’ll just be doing it because it’s fucking funny. That’s how it’s always been, and that’s how it’s always going to b--ah! Hey! Put me down!”

Papyrus had lifted you effortlessly underneath the armpits and pinned you to the brick alley wall, and you blushed as you wrapped your legs around him for support, still convinced you were too heavy to carry.

“it’s not advised to talk badly about the things i care about,” he warned, his face mere inches from yours and his eyelights dilated and flashing with passion. “and it’s especially not wise to speak such blatant lies about them.”

You were silent, staring into his sockets with shocked wonder as one arm moved to support you against the wall under your butt and the other came to rest against the brick above your head.

Did he just... _ kabedon you? _

He observed your reaction for a long moment, from your flushed face to the way your hands were balled up in his sweatshirt.

Slowly, his face relaxed and he smirked softly. “...i’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-okay.”

And he did. He leaned down and you leaned up, and despite the warning he surprised you by meeting you in the middle, pressing his mouth to yours firmly. You squeaked in surprise, before kissing back feverishly, releasing his sweatshirt to wrap your arms around his neck. You wondered briefly how it could feel like lips, but you chalked it up to magic and didn’t worry further as a tingly tongue gently prodded your lip. You shuddered and let it in to tangle with yours, still confused and shocked this was even happening by the time he finally broke the kiss so you could breathe.

You whined in protest and followed at first, trying to kiss him again, and he chuckled, leaning his forehead to yours and staring into your lovestruck eyes.

“was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you squeaked, deep red blush blooming on your cheeks. “I, uh...why?”

“because i like you, a lot, and i wanted to,” he said bluntly. “wanted to for some time, now, actually.”

“...that doesn’t answer my question,” you huffed, a little smile on your lips. “But it’s enough.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but a muffled  _ quack! _ interrupted him, and you blinked up at him, puzzled.

“Did...did you just quack?”

“...i totally almost forgot.”

He set you down gently and pulled up his sweater and shirt to reveal a confused-looking duck sitting nestled in his pelvis, wearing a hand-knit sweater.

“...Is...Is that a duck?”

“are you suggesting  _ fowl _ play?” he asked, a shit-eating grin on his skull.

“Rus, where did you get a duck? And...why?”

“you’re askin’ that question a lot today.”

“Is that _your_ duck?”

“i didn’t steal it, if that’s your question,” he chuckled. “i did cheat a bit, though--mine cost more than 5g, but only by a little.”

He waggled his browbones at you, smiling wide, and was delighted when you burst into laughter, full-blown and doubling over, before he took your hand and laughed along with you, putting the shirt back down over the duck for transport.

“c’mon, little rabbit. let’s head home.”

You squeezed his hand with a giggle. “I’d go anywhere with you, you crazy mutt. Duck and all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES. YES. IT FINALLY HAPPENED AND IT HAPPENED WAY FASTER THAN IN FIGHT ME SO I'M HAPPY.  
> Also, I'm taking suggestions on the duck's name. Yes, they're keeping it. Yes, it's litter box trained.


	18. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're seeking answers, and Rus has them in spades.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy with all your guy's responses!  
> The most reccommended name and the one I was hoping you guys would mention was Calvin, but I also got a lot of Donald, Chicken, Grape, and Dog lol

“well, we can't just call him duck.”

“But I'm also not naming him Lunch,” you ribbed back, looking over at him with a raised brow. “Or Dinner. Or Roast or any other food name.”

“grapes?” He offered cheekily, and you laughed at that, splashing the water in the tub at your new charge, who quacked happily.

“Absolutely not.”

“m'sure we can come up with somethin’ we can agree on after dinner, yeah?” He asked, ruffling your hair affectionately before standing with a groan and stretching. “what will you eat tonight?”

“Not--”

“if you say you're not hungry, i'll flick you,” he said sternly, holding up a flick-ready hand.

You smiled sheepishly at him. “Whatever, then.”

He hummed and offered his hand flat, and you took it and allowed him to pull you to your feet.

You waved him forward so you could pick your pajamas, going with a black tank top and the green pajama shorts to combat the unusually warm evening.

You giggled when the duck honked and fluttered up over the edge of the tub to follow you out, webbed feet slapping comically quick against the tile. Hobbes, who was peeking in at the door, fluffed up in surprise at the rapidly advancing fowl and took off towards Papyrus, each step punctuated by a tiny mew and a jingle of his collar bell.

A little bit of magic and soon Hobbes was settled around the tall skeleton's shoulders as he hummed and chopped vegetables, already purring away by the time you got to the kitchen. You leaned on the archway to the kitchen and smiled as you watched your cat rub his face of Papyrus’ cheek, and Papyrus tilted his head to let him do it easier.

The duck announced your presence with a persistent quack, fluttering up to the counter.

“oh, no, no fowl on the counter,” Papyrus said sternly, picking the bird up gently and crouching to let it go on the floor whilst not disturbing the cat on his shoulders. “you'll get your own bowl of seed and veggies soon.”

“You're good with animals, Rus.”

He chuckled, straightening up to continue his work. “so i've heard. takes one t'know one, i guess.”

Part of you teased you that he's only good with you because you count as a fat cow, and suddenly you really weren't hungry.

“What are you making?” Your voice was nearly a whisper, and he noticed, turning to regard you with an arched brow bone. “...just wondering. I have allergies.”

“you do, do ya?” He asked. You nodded. “well, let me know about those so i can leave 'em out, yeah?”

“Ginger. And coconut.” You listed, holding up a hand and putting down two fingers. “Also shellfish, but only a little, and olives, and cilantro.”

“olive oil okay, or…?”

“Olive oil is fine. Just straight olives.”

He nodded, and you were happy it didn't come across as a lie. Those things made you throw up pretty bad, but you couldn't be sure for a long time because you hadn't known if it was on all in your head or not. Lack of bulimic tendencies since being here had cemented the list for you, even though your doctor had already told you once.

He discarded what looked like cilantro, washing the rest of the vegetables and the cutting board and knife. You blanched, having been a pain.

“...sorry. Should have said something sooner…”

“no, i'm counting a win that y'told me before i added it to the pot.” He smiled at you, petting your hair before kissing your forehead affectionately, and you blushed like crazy immediately as he turned back to the food.

That's right, you kissed in the alley! Everything's been so crazy with the duck that you hadn't had the time to process any of that yet.

Your life is a literally circus, and these are actually your monkeys.

You turned to leave the kitchen and paused, confusion and doubt clouding you. What if you just imagined that kiss? What if you didn't, but he only did it to shut you up because you were causing a scene? He hadn't mentioned it or anything else regarding a relationship or the next step, he hadn't tried to further make moves on you, and he hadn't tried to use that kiss to coax you into anything else or say you owed him.

Don't you owe him? A kiss for a kiss, at least, right? Or maybe  _ you _ should be making dinner…

Papyrus turned when he felt you tug on his sleeve, and you gestured for him to lean down. He did, curious, and then you, blushing madly, kissed him right on the teeth, making him hum in contentment as you pulled away, even redder than before.

“what was that for, darlin’?” He asked, voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine as you put a whole hand on his face and shoved him away, embarrassed.

“I think we should name the duck Calvin!” You squeaked, avoiding his question or explaining yourself. “Like Calvin and Hobbes! It fits!”

He chuckled and grabbed your hand, pulling it slightly from his face so he could kiss your palm. “that's genius, little rabbit.”

He's pretty sure you can't get any redder, but he's willing to keep trying.

* * *

The TV played softly in the background, plates abandoned on the little coffee table. You had eaten more than half of your beef stew, and he was proud of you.

Calvin had claimed Hobbes’ huge cat bed as his nest, and after mewing for about an hour about it to no avail, Hobbes had simply snuggled in next to his new roomie, quite literally tucked under his wing. Similarly so were you tucked beneath Papyrus’ arm, awake but pretending not to be, as Papyrus played with your hair with the hand whose arm you were using as a pillow, and waited for you to speak about whatever was bothering you.

“Hey, Rus?”

“mm? need somethin’?” He hummed, tightening the arm around your waist reassuringly.

“Today, in the alley? You said you kissed me because you wanted to?”

“that i did.”

“Okay.”

Silence. He hummed, cracking one socket open to look at you, back to him in contemplation.

“s'at it?”

You sighed. “...No.”

He let you go as you dragged yourself upright, propping himself up on one elbow to listen attentively. “talk t'me.”

“I guess I have some reservations,” you said softly, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. 

He tried not to look disappointed--of course he had to realize there was a chance you didn't like him that way. Even as much chemistry as there is, even how well you've been working together and communicating, you still hated monsters less than a month ago. To assume you would set that aside so quickly was unrealistic and over-romantic.

“yeah. but a guy can dream, huh?”

You looked up at him with shock and guilt on your face. “Oh, no! Rus, it isn't you, believe me! I only meant, uh, well…”

You sighed and scratched your jaw nervously.

“I guess I just...still wanna know why?” You looked over at him sheepishly. “Why take me in? Why be so nice and make me feel good and kiss me at all? A-and you know, if it was just that time, I'm okay with that, if you don't want anything more than that or maybe a hookup, you know, I'm okay with that, too, I mean--”

“stop.” You did, hanging your head and wishing you had hair to cover your face. He sat up properly. “one thing at a time, okay? i'll answer all your questions.”

“Why did you want to kiss me today?”

“because i think you're beautiful, smart, and funny, and you've got me quite thoroughly charmed,” he said swiftly and without humor. “i mean, part of it was also because i was angry as fuck at that asshat you call a boyfriend, that he's made you feel like you aren't worth loving, and i wanted to show you he's wrong.”

You rolled your eyes at that, and he hummed thoughtfully.

He reached past you to where Carrie was sitting on the bedside table and snatched her up.

“what do you like about carrie? what caught your eye about her?”

You raised a brow, but took her and appraised her. “She's...she has a unique look. There's definitely no other doll like her anywhere else.”

“wasn't that enough for you to find her beautiful in her own way?” He asked. “wasn't that all it took for you to want to bring her home? to bring hobbes home? to stay with me?”

You were silent, processing, and he waited patiently for the shy smile, and was not disappointed. “She's still ugly, but at least she's mine.”

“that is not the takeaway from this,” he chuckled. “look. you see yourself differently than others do. i saw at least six people who looked like they wanted to chat you up at the market today, not including that asshole. it does include his wife, though.”

“Whaaaat?” You laughed. “Jennifer was  _ not _ looking at me that way. She's like...a model. She's way prettier than me.”

“no, darlin’. she's thinner than you, not prettier.”

There's the drop, and you stop turning Carrie over in your hands and look up at him in shock, as if that was the first time you had ever heard those two concepts could be separate.

“beauty and weight are completely different concepts,” he continued. “i know you struggle with that idea. you struggle with your body and your concept of yourself. believe me, i've been there--i've looked at my scars and my LV and thought i was nothing more than a demon, that nobody could ever possibly love me. i'll be honest, i've banged my way across the underground and back, darlin’, for  _ years... _ lookin’ for the feeling that i now get every day when i look at you.”

He reached up and brushed away the tears as they started to fall on your cheeks, kissing your forehead and mumbling the next part against your skin.

“this is new, and that's gonna come with doubts and difficulty. but i'm here for it, all of it, whether or not you wanna label it. call me your boyfriend, your friend, your datemate, or we can even just keep being rus an’ hazel.” He brushed his fingertips through your hair affectionately. “nothing's gonna be easy. nothing's ever easy. but i will fight for you, because you, on your own, just yourself, are worth fighting for.”

He ruffled your hair a bit and you let him angle your head up so he could look you in the eye.

“even if it means i gotta fight your own perception of yourself,” he teased, squeezing your nose and making you laugh, surprised. “any other questions?”

You let him run his thumbs over your cheeks, wiping the tears away, and you shook your head. “Just one.”

“fire away, little rabbit.”

You looked up at him, tears still clinging to your lashes despite the smile on your face. “Can I kiss you?”

He chuckled, leaning down and closing the distance, kissing you gently. You sighed and pressed back, your lips so soft and the heat building with every gentle swipe of his tongue on yours. By the time you separated, his eyelights were little hearts and you were panting slightly.

“y'never have to ask,” he said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Yeeesss. Communicate! Communicate with each other! Make your intentions clear!  
> *happy sobbing*


	19. Royal-tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus takes you to tea at a friend's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set up for next chapter (s)

You tugged on your hood, feeling underdressed despite Papyrus’ insistence that you looked fine. When he had asked you this morning if you'd like to go to his friend's house for tea, you hadn't expected him to put on a button-up shirt.

“I think I--”

“you look great,” he said firmly. “listen, i should warn you before we get going, about a few things.”

“Okay…” you hummed, trepidation building at his tone.

“asgore is the nicest, most sincere guy you'll ever meet. he will never hurt you--he wouldn't hurt anyone.” He put his hand on your shoulder. “that being said, he used to be married to the queen, before the humans came. he ended up living in the ruins, which means...he's met every human that went through the underground, including chara who he's adopted. but also including…”

“...My sister,” you said softly, eyes widening in understanding. He nodded, his hand still squeezing you gently. “He didn't…?”

“no. like i said, he's never hurt anyone.” He tipped your face up with his other hand, looking you in the eye with sincerity. “i doubt he will bring it up unless you do, and he may have some answers for you. but, we can still cancel if that's too much.”

You searched his face for any sort of lie or joke, but of course you found none. This was a lot to take in, but he was warning you now instead of when you were already there or not at all…

“I think...I can handle it.”

He nodded, accepting that as your final answer, before turning to slide his boots on, actually reaching down to fuss with the tongues and laces. Seems he cares about his appearance around this Asgore guy.

“He used to be the king?” You asked with a frown. “I really should dress nicer--”

“trust me, he'll like you comfortable. he hasn't been the king for centuries.”

You hummed, still self-conscious but relenting. You know Papyrus wasn't one to bend on such things.

He took your hand, spinning you into his arms and squeezing you gently. You giggled and pressed back against him.

“if it gets too overwhelming and you want to go, you just tell me. i can have us back right away.”

“As long as you're there, I think I'll be alright.” You turned in his grip. “Did you take your meds?”

“yup. you?”

“I actually did!” You beamed at him, and he chuckled, before swooping down to kiss you softly. You made a little noise of surprise and as soon as it started it was over.

“figured we deserved a reward.”

“Yeah? What was yours?”

“kissing you, silly rabbit,” he laughed, squeezing your cheeks between both hands until you made a silly squished face.

“We should pwob'wy weave nowh,” you managed, a bubble of laughter trapped in your voice by your squished cheeks.

He let your face go and smiled when you immediately wrapped your arms around him, head resting on the very bottom of his sternum.

“Ready for liftoff, Captain,” you said, squeezing him.

Man, he got lucky with you. You're just too cute.

“hold on tight, then.”

* * *

“Dad, I get that it's been a while since Papyrus came over, but tell me again why we have to make the house impeccable?” Chara whined, lugging the bag of trash to the door. “You know he literally, like, is allergic to clean, right?”

Asgore only chuckled, and Chara stopped in her tracks, gasping in realization as she watched him set up an extra place setting for tea.

“Is Sans coming, too?” Her eyes sparkled at the idea--both skeletons had been busy lately and so it was hard to find time to see them both at once.

“No,” he rumbled, patting her head gently. “Papyrus is bringing a lady-friend.”

“Who, Muffet?” Chara racked her brain, trying to remember if the bar was open this time of day.

Asgore chuckled again, before leaning closer as if telling a secret. “No, child. A human.”

“Rus has a  _ girlfriend! _ ?” She gasped, dropping her trash bag.

The doorbell rang and Asgore shook his head, golden curls bouncing with laughter.

“Now, let's not get ahead of ourselves, here, my child,” Asgore said softly as the teen practically vibrated near the door. He gripped the doorknob and looked at her sternly. “We don't know if they are together or should feel as such, so let us not embarrass them with assumptions.”

He opened the door.

You squeaked in surprise and broke what appeared to be a surprisingly passionate kiss, hiding in Papyrus’ hood as he smirked over your shoulder, clearly having decided that carrying you like a small child was the preferred way to travel.

“whoops. i thought you'd take longer t’answer.”

“Rus  _ does  _ have a girlfriend,” Chara whispered loudly, and Asgore waved her away.

“Take the trash out, Chara,” he huffed, a smile on his face as you peeked out from where you were still hiding your scarlet face. The teen groaned, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder and taking her time stepping around the two of you, trying to see what you looked like before finally giving up and dragging the trash bag down the flower-lined walkway.

“Papyrus,” Asgore sighed. “You're late.”

“and yet,” Papyrus chuckled, setting you down. “everything's only 80% ready. you didn't tell me to be here an hour earlier than you'd actually expect me again, did you?”

“I plead the fifth. Please, come in.”

Papyrus squeezed your hand and you shuffled in behind him, keeping your head down even as he quietly reassured you, and Asgore couldn't help but stare.

How he wanted to greet you, and hug you, and tell you all the stories of your sister he had...but you did not know him, and monsters are the reason she is not here today. He would understand if you never wanted to hear about her, or equally if that's all you wanted to talk about. But he would let you bring her up--Papyrus had told him he would give you fair warning so you could decide.

“quit hidin’, princess,” Papyrus chuckled, discarding his sweater to the coat hook and holding his hand out for your capelet. You shook your head and he shrugged, letting you keep it, sliding behind you with comforting hands on your shoulders. “this is asgore. he once took me an’ sans in when we were just babybones. asgore, this is hazel.”

“It is nice to officially meet you,” Asgore rumbled, holding out a paw. You took it shyly, eyes widening at how he dwarfed you, and he chuckled as he gave your hand a gentle shake.

Your eyes are hazel where Eliza's were amber. He recalled her saying that Amber was her nickname, too. How very lovely your eyes were, live with curiosity. But they were also full of pain and sadness, remorse--but he was letting his empathic abilities overtake him.

He withdrew his hand and gestured to the tea setup. “Please. Sit. I have scones coming.”

* * *

“Rus and Hazel, sittin’ in a tree!” Chara teased, pushing on his shoulders as he sat. With practiced ease he managed not to spill his tea. “K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Chara, it isn't nice to tease,” Asgore warned as he cleared your plates. He frowned at the untouched snacks on your plate--cookies and scones mostly. He glanced to where you had disappeared to the bathroom. “Did she not like the food?”

“she’s...particular about eating,” Papyrus said cryptically. “pack it up for us to take and it’ll get eaten later.”

Asgore nodded, setting the plate aside. “She is very quiet. That was...unexpected.”

“she’ll come around.”

“I think you were just asking the wrong questions, Dad,” Chara huffed, leaning more heavily on Papyrus and draping around his shoulders. “For instance, my question would be ‘when’s the wedding?’ but you all seemed more interested in the weather.”

“knock that off,” Papyrus chuckled, shifting and shrugging the girl from his shoulders. “we’re just testin’ the waters. don’t make ‘er run for the hills because y’ship it.”

“Oh, so it’s more like you and Muffet?” She asked, and he frowned, elbowing her.

“muffet’s...hazel’s different,” he insisted, setting his teacup down. “m’givin’ her the benefit to choose what we are, and she’s sensitive, so don’t screw it up with that mouth of yers, kiddo.”

“Oh,” Chara gasped, miming zipping her lips and locking it with a nod.

Asgore gave his daughter an ‘I told you so’ look, and Chara rolled her eyes. The sound of a flush and the bathroom sink quieted conversation, and when you returned, you looked like you might be sick.

“everythin’ okay, darlin’?” Papyrus asked, and you shrugged, scooting your chair closer to him before dropping heavily into it. He glanced down at where your hands were twisting nervously and gently took one to squeeze reassuringly, making you jump and smile shyly. “penny for yer thoughts?”

“Uhm…” Your eyes flicked to Asgore and he could see the the anxiety building in your eyes, but with a deep breath and a squeeze of his hand you pushed forward. “Mr. Dreemur...would you mind if I...asked about Eliza?”

Papyrus looked at you in genuine surprise, a proud feeling swelling in his chest. He never expected you to actually ask about that!

Asgore’s face melted into a nostalgic, understanding smile.

“Of course not, my dear. Come, let’s move this conversation to the living room--I have a lot to share with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Things are gonna get heavy. Finally gonna get some answers!  
> Also, I had a lot of fun writing a young teen Chara lol. I HC Chara to be a girl, and approx. 14 here (11/12 at the time of monster liberation)


	20. Eliza in Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get an explanation, after all these years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backstory! Mentioned death and twinless twin feels
> 
> Man, we're really learning a lot giving the monsters a chance, huh?

The living room was decorated with calm blues and purples, and the couch was luxuriously comfortable to the point where you were certain you would fall asleep under different circumstances. Papyrus was giving you space until you decided otherwise, you noticed, because he was sitting beside you with his arm slung over the back of the couch but not touching you more than gentle fingers petting your hair idly.

Asgore was looking through a bookcase full of heavy books, deep in thought, two already picked out as he hunted down a third.

“Pardon for the delay, my friends. It has been a long time since I have looked through these.”

“take your time,” Papyrus hummed, catching your eye and smiling, making you blush.

“Can’t find that third one…” Asgore sighed, tapping the cover of the one on his arm. “Chara, I’m going to check the spare room. Don’t embarrass them...too much.”

He smiled and patted his daughter’s head as her crimson eyes glinted with excitement at the invitation to snoop. Then he ambled out the door, muttering to himself as he flipped through the pages of the books in his hands.

Chara watched you closely for a moment, and you smiled in return. With younger people, it’s easier--though younger than your brothers, she’s about the age they were when you left.

“We’ve...met before, haven’t we?” Chara asked, squinting at you.

“I had longer hair, then,” you admitted, fidgeting. “And I weighed quite a bit more.”

Chara’s eyes widened and her mouth made a little “oh!” as she recognized you finally. “That’s why you asked about one of Dad’s previous kids! You’re the twin, right? I think I met you backstage but…”

You looked down at your hands as she trailed off. You were supposed to accept a medal of honor for your sister’s sacrifice from Chara, the monster ambassador. Initially it was to be the queen, so you’d shown up with the intention of giving her a piece of your mind...but realizing it was a little kid giving the award, one who’d seen all the horrors your sister had and survived them...you’d lost the nerve.

Papyrus made a noise like he was clearing his throat, a signal to change the subject.

“So, other than that, how did you two meet?” Chara asked, posture a little awkward. “Had to be recent because until a few months ago Rus was daaa--” She cut off her own word, elongating it unnecessarily. “--aaaaaring? Very, very daring. Like a daredevil. Lots of...tricks and...stunts…”

“i was seeing muffet, she means,” Papyrus said gently. “casually. toldja i was kind of a slut.”

“Rus, language,” you warned, glancing at the teen who just shrugged, apparently having heard and seen much worse. Somehow, his straightforwardness made the news about Muffet bother you less. Even if she was the epitome of thin and pretty and successful.

“she got caught in a bad place and got...injured,” Papyrus continued, charging forward with the conversation.

Chara raised a brow. “Sans shot her and then dumped her on you to fix?”

You gaped at her, shocked by her intuition. Papyrus chuckled and shrugged.

Chara shook her head. “And I bet he hasn’t apologized yet, either, the jerk.” She looked right at you. “Don’t worry, he’s actually a really great guy once you get past the murdery bit. I’m sure he’s at home trying to think of the proper gift basket to send you before he dares come say sorry. Mine had literally 18 pounds of chocolate and he didn’t even actually hit me, he only tried.”

Somehow, the idea of Sans being willing to attack a small child wasn’t exactly comforting to your situation.

“he’s mellowed, since then,” Papyrus promised, along with a silent undertone that you wouldn’t need to face him before you were ready.

“Found it!”

Asgore came back in and Chara vacated the big comfy chair she’d been lounging in in favor of a spot of the floor as he spread the books across the table.

“These are all pictures of Eliza,” he said, tapping the hard cover of one. He moved his hand to another. “These are of Eliza and a few others. And this last one is a scrapbook of the writings and artwork she made while in my home.”

You stared at the huge tomes, completely confused. How could he possibly have all that? Eliza died when you were 11, or maybe 12. She died when she went down there. You know it’s true, your bond was severed sometime during the search party...so how could he have so many pictures and odds and ends? He wouldn’t...take pictures of a body, would he?

Papyrus’ hand squeezed your shoulder and grounded you. No way this guy would hurt anyone, even he had said so.

“I...don’t understand,” you managed to say, wanting to reach for the books but keeping your hands firmly in your lap. “Eliza died when we were 11. She fell...I...I couldn’t hold her and she…”

“Is that what you believe?” Asgore asked softly. “That she fell because you dropped her?”

You hung your head, tears stinging your eyes as you recalled her disappearing into the darkness. Your mother’s voice rang in your head, accusing you of wanting all the attention, telling you she knew you did it on purpose, even though you never would have done that,  _ ever. _

“I found Eliza in my garden,” Asgore said softly, cutting through your thoughts with a deep and gentle voice. “She had a broken arm and a twisted ankle, but was only worried about her sister. She told me she was worried you would fall in, too, and so she let go so you could pull yourself up.”

Your head snapped up, shock apparent on your face at this revelation. Papyrus wondered, from that brief, dark moment before, how  _ long _ you’ve held onto that guilt, or who might have perpetuated it in such a way for it to be so deeply believed.

Asgore leaned forward in his chair and opened the first book, pulling out the first picture and handing it to you. With shaking hands you took it, and Papyrus leaned over to see, subtly.

A young girl no older than when Chara came through. She had hair just like yours and the same cute freckles, but her eyes were an unsettlingly familiar amber. She boasted a cast on one arm and a peace sign with the opposite hand, a gap-toothed smile as she sat in front of the fire in Asgore’s home in the ruins.

“You did not drop her, or at least, she did not think you did.” The former king leaned back, leaving the book open as you stared at the picture.

There was complete silence, and for a moment, Papyrus was worried you might be shutting down completely.

He brushed one hand along your shoulders, testing, and when you didn’t shrug him off, he drew you closer. “y’okay?”

You snapped to, and tears flooded your eyes, prompting you to bury your face in your hood in embarrassment.

“I thought I’d seen every picture of Eliza that still existed,” you squeaked. “I never...I never thought I’d see her again.”

You seemed too overwhelmed to speak further, and they all waited for you to peek up, looking at the picture again. You handed it to Papyrus, who took it, waiting to see what you wanted him to do with it.

“She borrowed that shirt from me,” you said, pointing to the striped shirt she was wearing. “After complaining it was too hot for any of her shirts, even though she refused to buy any short-sleeved shirts when we went shopping.”

“hmph. siblings,” he chuckled, setting it back on the table. “doin’ okay?”

You nodded. “I want to know.” You looked up at Asgore. “How long was she with you in the ruins?”

Asgore hummed, stroking his beard. “11...12 years?”

You shook your head. “But...that’s impossible. Our bond was severed when she died, about a year and a half after she disappeared.”

“Time is strange underground,” Asgore explained. “What was decades and centuries for us was only months or years up here. The closest calculation they can map, as it changes frequently, is about 7 or 8 times as fast as up here. By my clock, Eliza fell...approximately 125 years ago, in underground time.”

“125 years…” You eyed the books warily. So if she had lived her whole life, she still wouldn’t have made it back to you. And if she had, she would have been several times your age.

You aren’t sure how you feel about that. But, knowing she lived to at least 22, 23 years old? That definitely helped.

“She drew you, all the time,” Asgore mentioned. “Told me stories. The other children that lived there at the same time as her thought you were just a character in her stories.”

He tapped the last book, and you did reach for it, feeling more prepared to see her art than actual pictures of her.

The first half of it was mostly pencil and colored pencil, varying styles of cartoon of you and her and Asgore. Pictures of how she must have imagined your brothers must look as they grew older. Mom, all smiles...you’re happy she never saw the other side of her. Dad, sometimes being crazy, but mostly smiling. Your stepmom, Sandra, holding the boys usually. There were other things--Asgore really had saved everything, from doodles on napkins to bits of schoolwork. It was obvious some of the stuff was assigned as a homeschooling assignment, which made you smile--she didn’t even get out of school.

You lingered on some self-portraits from her teen years, clearly her imagining what you must look like. The tell-tale beauty mark beneath your left eye made it obvious she was drawing you. You’d done the same, leaving the beauty mark out to pretend it was her you were drawing.

“If it was 7 or 8 years faster, then…” You frowned, seeing the drawings cut off at about 20 or 22ish. “You said she left the ruins?”

“She sought a way back to you,” Asgore said softly. “Said that she’d find it...or die trying and donate her soul toward getting us out.”

“Of course she did, sentimental asshole.” Tears dripped onto the page and you were quick to scrub at them, hoping to prevent the ink of her drawings from smudging. “She always had a heart of gold, literally.”

“She was grown, so I could not protest. And so it went with every other child that came through, as it had with those before her.” Asgore sighed, turning to Chara and smiling lovingly at her. “Until finally...one of them freed us and I was able to keep her this time.”

“Why didn’t the queen ever say it was voluntary sacrifice?” You asked, frowning. That might have changed your mind, back in the day…

“As if the angry humans and families would believe that? No. Many families have eventually sought me for the pictures and information I have, but some are long gone or still mourning fresh. Toriel knew what she was taking credit for--the death of loved ones, no matter how voluntary, is inexcusable to those who have lost their children.” He sighed, petting his beard. “...as Tori and I know too well, having lost our own.”

“Oh.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Asgore cleared his throat.

“Anyhow. I’m grateful to you for allowing me to speak on this. Would you like to borrow some of these? Take them to your parents?”

You hummed, eyes roaming over the books. “I...could stand to borrow some, I think. Just this one? For now?”

You tapped the one that was supposedly only pictures of Eliza, and he nodded, effortlessly loading it into your arms.

“You let me know if you have any questions or ever want to hear more about her,” Asgore offered. “But I can see...you are tired now.”

And you were.

Your limbs felt heavy even as your shoulders felt light. Your head was muddled even as you thought a thousand questions at once, and the image of your sister smiling wide was burned in your brain. You held the book close to your chest and leaned on Papyrus, who took the hint and said goodbyes for you.

Then he held you close, and you were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much info to process here 👀


	21. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a difference between 'want to' and 'have to' and Rus is determined to teach it to you.

Papyrus was supposed to be cooking, but all he could do was watch you over the half-wall that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house, making sure you were really okay.

You'd been going through that photo album since you got back, eyes roaming over every photo slowly, and you had been

 

Dead.

 

Silent.

 

Which is, of course, not terribly unusual for you, but it was the context that was important. He wanted to give you your space to deal, but he also didn't want to miss it if you needed him.

He tapped his fingertips on the kitchen counter and decided that re-plated tea sandwiches would do as long as he added some veggies on the side. You'd likely eat more carrots than sandwiches but you'd be eating.

He chuckled, wondering how he ended up playing mother hen to someone other than his little brother for once. Maybe he should loosen up a little, but he was afraid that if he did he'd end up carelessly hurting you.

...his appointment with Dr. Stephens is tomorrow. He skipped last month because you were here. Who knew you would still be here this month? Who knew he'd be using the techniques he was taught to help someone else? He'd have to bring a gift basket of some sort, because if you had met him a year ago you would have run for the hills.

He arranged the plate with some snap peas and carrots, along with the cucumber tea sandwiches. Whatever was in those things was irresistible, so he helped himself to one as he went, and then headed towards the couch, knocking on the wall as he went.

“hey.”

You looked up, startled from a thought so deep you took a moment to register he was actually there, but then...then you smiled, and along with the reminiscent melancholy of a lost loved one, you had such a genuine joy in the smile that it made his chest hurt just a bit.

“...sorry I've been a bit of a lump,” you said softly.

“thank you,” he corrected, and when you cocked your head in confusion he moved closer, setting the plate down, and elaborated. “you say thank you, not sorry. instead of sorry, say 'thank you for being patient’.”

You made a quiet “oh” and looked at the plate with a faraway look of contemplation. You looked back at the album in your hands, absently taking a sandwich and nibbling at it without question or pretense.

“may i?” He asked, gesturing to the couch and photo album.

“Oh! Of course!” You scooted over so he could join you on the lumpy loveseat, and with one arm around your shoulders the two of you settled in to look at the pictures together.

Maybe it seemed obvious, but you and Eliza truly did look similar. He watched her grow up from Asgore's perspective, from a preteen to a teenager all the way to a twenty-something with a smug smirk.

“you have the same smile,” he teased, nudging you and pointing to her lopsided grin. “cuter on you, though.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed. 

And with that, the silence was broken, and you opened up with your thoughts.

“I definitely don't think we look anything alike in the end.” You pointed to a set where she was laughing and rolling her golden eyes as she held up a sign that said “22”. “Look at her, so effortlessly pretty. I bet she never worried about her appearance once.”

“probably wrong, but okay.”

“When I was 22, I was almost 280 pounds, with rainbow hair and a septum piercing,” you pointed out. “And she is  _ nothing _ like that. I sure wish I'd kept it natural like her.”

He hummed and looked at you a moment, trying to imagine you at 280 pounds. You weren't exactly healthy weight now, but neither was that--your fixation on your weight is easier to understand now, but it worried him even more that you had shed at least 160 pounds in a handful of years, and not from any healthy diet if your current eating habits were any indication.

But the last thing he should do is discuss weight with you.

“what happened to the septum piercing?” He asked.

You hesitated, and smiled wryly at him. “Some asshole thought it was trashy.”

Camden. Had to be.

“well i think you should decorate your body how you see fit.” He turned the page, and paused.

Eliza stood with one of Asgore's famous butter cups in her hair, a bag slung over her shoulder and a soft smile on her face.

This is what you would look like if you would stop punishing yourself. Healthy curves, an even sweeter smile than pictured here. But beyond that, something about it was so familiar...perhaps he had seen her on her way through the underground? It had been long before he and Sans joined the guard, so it's possible but unlikely.

“She's much prettier than me.”

“you're twins,” he pointed out.

“She's still prettier than me,” you said, giving him a look. “Even you were thinking it a moment ago.”

He hesitated, but only because he knows that's a delicate dig to see how he feels. He could fuck everything up if he didn't answer carefully. “i honestly was looking at her and seeing you.”

“Pfft. Yeah, I'm so sure.”

“no, really.” He squeezed your shoulder. “i was thinkin’, 'now that's what hazel looks like when she smiles. that's what she looks like when she's supported and happy and doesn't have an asshole or multiple assholes around her tellin’ her she's not pretty enough.’ that's what i was thinking.”

You hummed, dissecting his answer silently. “But I don't look like that.”

“y'look like you. and you're gorgeous,” he reassured you. “when you smile, when i see you enjoyin’ a meal or a good book or a crossword? you're radiant.”

“Liar,” you giggled, blushing and turning back to the album. He smirked, triumphant.

“one of these days you'll listen to reason,” he joked, ruffling your hair and kissing your temple. “and until then, i'll just have to tell you how pretty you are. ten times a day. no! twenty.”

“You're crazy,” you giggled as he set the photo album on the coffee table.

He pulled your legs across his lap and leaned in, eyelights flicking to your lips. “good thing or bad thing?”

“Not sure yet,” you hummed, blushing as you leaned closer, resting your forehead against his skull. “...but I think it means we might be into the same stuff.”

He chuckled at that. Man, that seemed so long ago, just meeting you, flirting and exchanging quips with you when you were still posturing. Only two months, but he could swear he's known you forever.

“i'm gonna kiss you now,” he purred, and you giggled, letting him press his mouth to yours gently, and then more firmly as you pulled him closer.

“You know, you don't have to ask every time,” you breathed when you separated for a moment.

He shrugged, dragging you fully on top if him as he fell back on the couch. “but i like it when you blush all cute like that.”

And blush you did, feeling warm and fuzzy immediately as his fingertips very gently caressed the small strip of skin exposed between your shirt and your yoga pants, his touch buzzing and making you shudder. When you opened your mouth to quip back, you instead found yourself kissing him again.

Smooth motherfucker.

He groaned as your tongue explored his curiously, your little body warm and eager in his hands as he tried to keep his hands to himself. He let them roam just a bit, sliding up your back and resting the other on your hip, enjoying the shudder of your spine as you responded spectacularly to the touch.

“so beautiful,” he moaned quietly, like a spell whispered against your lips. “like music at my fingertips.”

You responded with trembling hands gripping him harder, and he listened as your heart rate sped and he was caught off guard by a stray hand at his waist. He made a noise of surprise as you gently traced the top of his exposed pelvic bone, and quickly whimpered at your touch. Had he misjudged you? He had been so certain you wouldn't want sex yet, that you'd want to take things slow and especially not when you're so emotional...and vulnerable...and...

...and he's saying all those pretty words that make you feel wanted.

“wait,” he groaned, kicking himself mentally when you froze immediately. He dropped his head back to the arm of the couch with a muttered curse as you sat up, straddling him and looking perfectly sheepish and disheartened.

“I'm sorry, I thought you wanted…”

“i did, i do, i…” he ran both hands over his face. “it's complicated.”

A look of understanding bloomed on your face, and he was 90% certain you were definitely not understanding.

“Oh! Of course!” Your face burned crimson as you looked down at his exposed bone. “Uh, you're a skeleton, and I'm an idiot.”

There was quiet for a long moment, and from behind his hands bloomed sincere, amused laughter. You pouted at him, your experience showing he would never laugh to embarrass you but still feeling utterly embarrassed as he dropped one hand, the other splaying to support his head as he chuckled.

“i _have_ a dick, darlin’.”

Your utterly confused face caused him to muffle another round of laughter in the crook of his elbow, and he found himself coughing when you scooted back to scrutinize his nether regions as if you could see it through the pants.

“oh for--come 'ere.” He sat up, closing the distance to kiss your adorably puzzled expression, one hand on each cheek. “it ain't the parts i was concerned about, little rabbit. it was you. i wanted t'make sure it's what you wanted.”

“I don't understand,” you sighed, hazel eyes studying his face. “Didn't you want me to?”

“what i want is only somewhat relevant, but yeah, 'course i did.” He brushed your cheeks with his thumbs gently, studying your eyes. So much naivete in such a tortured package. “but that's just...i mean, i'm likely down for a good  _ bonin’ _ pretty much anytime. guess i'm just worried about the huge change of gear you had from adorably shy kisses.”

“...Sorry.”

“thank you,” he reminded you. “you say thank you, not sorry.”

“...Thank you for checking in?” He nodded, and you smiled, sighing. “Well, I...I just figured that must be what you wanted? So--”

“back up. question.” He inhaled thoughtfully, a finger over his teeth as he picked his words carefully. “ok. not that you were wrong, necessarily, but what made you think that? i just don't want you to feel like i'm pressurin’ you in any way, i can tone it back if i'm bein’ pushy, whatever it is.”

“Well, you kept saying how pretty I am and complimenting me,” you said slowly, as if it was obvious. “You know...like you wanted me? Like you...oh.”

Your face fell as you seemed to realize independently how flawed that reaction was.

“That's...not normal, is it?”

“well, sincere compliments from a partner are normal,” he reassured you. “thinkin’ you gotta repay them with sex, not so much.”

You huffed and brushed through your hair with your fingers in frustration. “I don't understand. You tell me I'm pretty, and you kiss me, and all of that, but you don't expect me to reciprocate somehow?”

“of course not. i don't  _ expect _ it. you always have a choice, an’ it matters if  _ you _ want to, too.”

“But it isn't like sex is for me, anyway,” you said. “It's to please you.”

Papyrus hummed and squished your face thoughtfully. If he ever saw that Camden asshat again he was definitely going to fuck him right the fuck up, because even though he guessed you felt this way the fact that you were confidently repeating such filth shows how deeply ingrained it was.

“...That's not normal, either, is it?” You asked quietly, looking utterly heartbroken and yet not at all surprised. He shook his head and you sighed, closing your eyes and taking a moment. Maybe you were processing. “I'm a fucking idiot.”

“no, you were lied to and manipulated by someone who clearly knew exactly how to get to you,” he corrected. “don't worry. if you want, i can promise to try an’ teach you the right way. it might not be perfect, and m'still learnin’, but two heads is better than one, eh?”

“Why are you so good to me?” You teased, and he chose not address the fact that he could tell you wanted to really ask that.

Instead he hummed, kissing you softly and then adjusting to pull you close by the waist.

“because you look really,  _ really _ good in my shirt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, you can find a recipe for those cucumber sandwiches [HERE](https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/220775/english-tea-cucumber-sandwiches/) and they are the BOMB. I used to make them for girl scouts and they are so fucking good.
> 
> Anywho, I hope y'all are enjoying the fluff because I am


	22. Investing in Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rus has a counseling appointment, and it brings up some questions he'd been avoiding.

Papyrus wondered if maybe he should just go home.

You were fine. He knew you were. You'd taken your meds together this morning and you were significantly happier to look at Eliza's pictures, even talking about maybe sketching her a bit when he left. He'd dug out an old notebook and pencil for you just in case…

...but it felt weird to have the spotlight back on him. And entering Dr. Stephens’ office was like walking into an out-of-body experience. He'd been focusing so hard on being good for you, on helping you along, that he forgot he hasn't even scratched the surface of his own recovery.

“sorry i'm late--ah!” He pointed knowingly at Dr. Stephens, who had begun to correct him. “thank you for waiting, james.”

“Never a problem,” the man rumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose. His face was wrinkled from years of smiles and laughter, with hair that was rapidly turning silver. “It allowed me time to call my granddaughter. She started kindergarten today.”

“reelin’ me in with the kid, that's no fair, doc,” he teased, falling into the comfy leather couch. “anyway, let's get movin’, tick tock payin’ by the minute an’ all that.”

“Well, you missed your last session,” he hummed, going through his notes. “Is there something you wish to say about that? Or perhaps something that's happened in these two months you want to discuss?”

“i got a duck,” he started. “i also sorta acquired a cat, and a human.”

James raised a brow, inviting him to continue.

He told him the whole story--he'd long since learned that lying did him no favors in this room. He left out your personal things and glossed over things that happened to you, sticking only to how he felt about the situations and how he reacted.

“I see you're fond of your new friend,” James said. “Do you think having her around helps you stay on your correct behaviors?”

“hard not to when i'm repeatin’ yer words t'her all day. an’ she helps me remember my meds in the mornin’.” He looked over at him seriously, sitting up finally. “level with me, doc. is this a good thing? for her. i don't give a damn about myself but if you think it's gonna hurt her progress that i'm like this, let me know, because i can't stand the idea.”

“A question that's been hanging over you for some time?”

“i--” Papyrus paused, squinting at him. “hey. that's the kinda shit you say when you wanna dig up all my junk before you can answer my question.”

“I believe the one being paid to ask questions is me,” he chuckled, amused, and Papyrus grinned. “To answer your question, I'll need more context about the other parts of your life that doesn't involve her.”

“yeah, fair, i guess,” he mumbled, smirking as he leaned back.

James shuffled a few papers around. “How are things going between you and Sans? Is he handling the separation well?”

Papyrus hummed, knowing full well that was a trick question. “we're still living separately. s'weird, but i think we're both adjusting.”

“Do you talk daily?”

He thought about that for a moment, surprised by his own answer. “...no, actually. been so busy with hazel that i guess...it was easy to forget a time or two. an’ he ain't been bothering me about it, either.”

“That's astounding progress in such little time,” James hummed. “Do you feel that your independence is becoming easier to manage, or do you feel that your need to care for your brother is being transferred over onto this woman you're caring for?”

Sudden silence. Oh, he doesn't like that question. He definitely doesn't like that question. Is that all it is? He hates the idea that he might, in the end, be using you for his own needs.

“No answer?”

“...i'm...i don't know.” He frowned, upset. His codependent relationship with Sans was a source for so much anger between the two of them, and what drove him to drugs and so many other bad decisions upon reaching the surface.

He couldn't stand it if he became that person again, to you this time. He wouldn't want to put you through that.

“Believe it or not, that's the best possible answer,” James said, scribbling on his notepad. “A quick dismissal and we both might think it a lie in the end, don't you agree? You're growing, Papyrus, and it comes with uncertainty and risks. Remember my tips on identifying your codependent behaviors versus your natural instinct to nurture. Would you like me to walk you through them in regards to Hazel, or would you like to ruminate on it until next month?”

“i think...i can watch for it myself,” he said slowly, scratching mindlessly at his scarred socket. “but if i have questions i can text you, right?”

“Of course. It's my job to help you heal.”

“and if i think i'm fine, but that she shows signs…?”

“As long as you are comfortable setting boundaries, it should be okay. But you can always refer her to me or one of my colleagues.”

“...yeah.”

James returned his attention to the notepad, clearly satisfied to leave it there if Papyrus wanted, and he definitely wanted to. He wouldn't forget to watch for it, but he also didn't need to psych himself out.

“Now, then. How is your LV?”

“two flareups since last visit,” he said. “one a fight. one a...nightmare.”

“But not any higher?”

“nope. still goin’ strong on the no-killing thing.”

James chuckled. “Yes, I thought so. That  _ is  _ ideal. Two in two months is also not terrible, and you said yourself you're taking your meds. How about those nightmares? Anything new?”

He shrugged. “mostly can't remember them. colors and some voices...the taste of marrow from…”

He gestured to the left half of his face, cracked as it was, and James nodded.

“an’ when i wake up i feel like they fade faster,” he said, smiling softly as he thought of how cute you looked when you sleep, and how your soft skin and slight weight on his arm was so grounding. “take one look at 'er and i'm home.”

“And the boyfriend?”

He stiffened. Had he mentioned Camden? He must have. It didn't stop his paranoia from creeping into his thoughts, whispering things he didn't want to hear.

“You mentioned him briefly, lamenting that he had treated her poorly and she was yet to break things off?”

He exhaled, unclenching his fists. “right. i do remember that. i hate him, i want to do unspeakable things to him, but i would definitely settle for ruining his marriage, stealin’ his girlfriend, and possibly pantsing him in public.”

James smirked at that. “That's what we call progress.”

He got up and crossed over to the computer and clicked a few things, and the printer began choking and gagging as it attempted to print something.

“Well, Papyrus, I see no reason to believe your relationship with Hazel is unhealthy. You seem invested in her wellbeing but not, at first glance, in the same way as with Sans.” He handed him a paper detailing signs of codependency. He probably had twenty of those already, but he took it anyway. “Try not to worry yourself. Your communication levels are improving, so I hesitate to think it would end up that way.”

He glanced over the paper, despite knowing it by heart.

_ Separation Angst, Lack of Independence, Need to Be Needed, Feeling Responsible, Lack of Boundaries, Obsession, Enabling… _

And so on and so forth. He felt better re-reading them, they didn't really sound like the two of you. He remembered each point vividly from when he and Sans first surfaced, and you were nothing like that.

“I'll have a refill of your LV suppressants sent to the pharmacy, and is there anything else you wanted to discuss today?”

Papyrus shrugged, folding the paper up and sticking it in his pocket. “nah. thanks for the warning, and the encouragement. promise i won't miss the next session, okay, doc?”

“Take care, Papyrus.”

“you, too, doc.”

* * *

You glanced up as the door opened and Papyrus stepped inside, shedding his jacket and kicking off his boots with a little wave in your direction.

You quickly picked up the pencils and loose papers around you, trying to make it look a little less messy as he approached. He kissed your hair gently, and before you knew it, his hands were stopping yours.

“what are you doing?” He asked curiously, spreading the papers slightly. “can i not look?”

“Did you want to?” You asked, looking up at him in surprise. “I mean, they're probably no good, I'm really out of practice.”

“you don't have to do anything you don't want, but you drawing and getting messy doesn't bother me.”

You scratched your face, leaving a graphite smudge from all your gray fingers. “...Okay. You can look.”

He settled himself behind you, long legs tucking cross-legged beneath you as if he were a chair for you to recline on, and he looked through the pictures one by one.

The first few pages were just sketches, mostly still life or floating features in different styles, but then…

“woah,” he breathed, staring at a drawing of him from a ¾ angle. His sockets were half lidded, teeth in a teasing smirk and sporting a cigarette, surrounded by the fluff of his favorite hoodie. It was softer than he felt he deserved--more curves, less sharp edges. Even his teeth, pointed as they were, appeared to curve slightly, making him look calm and quiet and gentle. “you make me look so…”

“It's just a sketch,” you said quickly, snatching it and stuffing it back in the notebook. “I didn't...I know it's not that great. I know I didn't ask, either. I'm sorry.”

“for what? makin’ kick-ass art of me?” He chuckled, swooping down to kiss your shoulder. “why didn't you say you were an artist before? we coulda picked up supplies at the market.”

“I dunno,” you mumbled, in a way that made him think you knew exactly why.

“i can bring y'a proper sketchbook.” He waited for your answer, and when there was none, he wrapped an arm around your waist and squeezed. “it's okay, y'know.”

“No, thank you,” you said, setting down the notebook. It seemed you were finished talking about it and he accepted that, for now, setting the notebook aside for you. “How was your appointment?”

“thought-provoking,” he hummed, resting his chin on the top of your head as you leaned back. “truth be told i don't really wanna get into it, but...part of getting better is facing the tough stuff, right?”

“You'd know better than me,” you giggled.

He hummed and closed his sockets, taking in the feeling of you, in his shirt, leaning your weight on him and smelling like heaven, the feeling of your fingers gently winding with his.

“If you aren't ready to talk about it, that's okay,” you said quietly. “We don't have to talk about everything.”

“s'true. but...do you think i'm like...babying you? Or controlling or enabling you?”

You cocked your head and turned to look at him behind you. “...No. Not really. Of all the people I've been with I think you do those things the least.”

“you'd let me know if i'm stifling you?”

“Rus, I don't think you're capable of that.”

He chuckled at that, nuzzling your cheek. “you'd be surprised.”

“You do often surprise me, but I mean it when I say you've been good to me. Better than I deserve, really.”

“hush. no lies in my house.” He growled, kissing your cheek. “you don't decide if i think you deserve affection.”

You blushed adorably, and he smirked, leaning his head to yours.

Yeah. This was good. How could he doubt that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally a look into Rus' head! Mostly a tease of things hes been through, but hopefully it puts a new light on his behavior and his healing process.


	23. Meet the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're on a mission and Papyrus is along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a non-canon angst short related to this where [Hazel died when she got shot](https://msmkcreates.tumblr.com/post/184775880448/you-got-the-bad-ending-angsty-bite-me-extra) if y'all are interested. Angst for the angst gods to keep this one fluffy!

“is it really okay to show up without calling?”

“Better not to give them a reason to tell me no.”

Papyrus didn’t say anything, leaning back in his seat and watching you drive.

You’d woken him this morning with an odd request for him to accompany you outside the city limits. After picking up your car and the scrapbook album from Asgore, he’d decided to let you lead the way and ask as few questions as possible to avoid changing your mind.

The only thing he’d gathered was that you wanted to visit your parents and brothers, whom he’d only learned existed this morning. He didn’t fault you for staying quiet--from the stiff way you were driving and the look in your eyes, you likely didn’t have a good relationship with them. He wondered if it was just you assuming you didn’t, or if they were part of the reason you were like this.

But that’s not really his business, is it?

“you grew up here?” He asked, glancing out the window at the passing scenery. Mt. Ebott loomed in the distance, and he wondered how often you must have felt like your own hometown was mocking you with the place your sister disappeared. He can see why you moved to the city, where the buildings blocked the view of the mountain 75% of the time.

“Yeah.”

You didn’t say anything else, so he didn’t pry, just placed his hand gently on your knee, and felt you relax just a bit. He was the moral support for this trip, so he’d just be quiet and let it happen.

When you finally parked, it was a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs, the house modest with a tree in the front yard, tire swing and all. The kind of place Papyrus would have died to have when they were little.

You stepped over a broken brick in the walkway as if it were second nature, and he smiled as he followed. Even if it’s a source of anxiety, you’re more comfortable here than you realize. As you knocked on the door, he took your hand and held it without a word, his other arm laden with the books.

He heard shouting and laughter and a stern voice telling someone, or multiple someones, to stop rough-housing, and he didn’t miss the fond smile on your face as the noises grew closer.

The door swung open to reveal a tall teenager wearing jeans and a wifebeater, covered in sweat and sporting MMA gloves with a smirk he’d recognize anywhere on his face.

“Girl scout cookies?” The young man said, before freezing as his eyes finally landed on you, his slack-jawed expression making it apparent that seeing you was exactly the farthest thing from his expectations.

“Hey! Is it Rosie with the cookies?!” Another, terribly similar voice called from inside.

“If it’s Rosie, tell her I’ll be right there!” A female voice called gently. “Honey, have you seen my purse…”

The voice faded away and you were left with silence as the teen in the doorway stared you down, face taking a calm demeanor.

“Mom’s gonna be pissed,” he said finally, that smirk that clearly runs in the family returning to his face as he leaned against the doorframe as he crossed his arms. “You didn’t even call so she could stock up on fruit snacks.”

“Hi, Levi,” you said softly, looking down and playing with the hem of your hood. “Uhm, this is Papyrus.”

He noticed you dodged stating your relationship, but it didn’t bother him. He dropped your hand and reached out to offer his to who he assumed was your brother. Levi took it and shook it firmly, suspicion in his gaze.

“Hey, Liam,” Levi said, over his shoulder to someone Papyrus couldn’t yet see. “Go tell Mom and Dad that Hazel’s here.”

Liam and Levi were twins, as it turned out. Papyrus noticed also that they must be half-siblings--the smirk is a perfect mirror of yours, but the boys had plenty of features you did not have, including the joy of being almost a foot and a half taller than you. Then again, that isn’t terribly hard to do.

Levi was easy to figure out. As you and Papyrus followed him inside, he took the time to observe him. Built strong, and clearly he trained for it--football? No, more likely Wrestling. The MMA gloves made him think he might box, or maybe be getting into MMA itself. Not unusual for young men in fighting sports nowadays. He was chattering like you had only been at an after-school activity, not gone for however long, and Papyrus was grateful for the way it helped you relax.

Liam was harder to read, his clothes and stance unassuming and mysterious. He watched Papyrus back, with a practiced sort of calm, and Papyrus wondered if that electric blue in his eyes was the same as your green--a result of magic sparking. If so, then he could count on his patience, it would seem.

“Bumblebee!”

Papyrus turned and stepped back just in time to stop himself from attacking someone who must be your father as he rushed past him to grab your shoulders. How the hell did he sneak up on him like that?!

You squeaked as your father pulled you close, and you were staring at Papyrus over his shoulder as if completely bewildered. Was...was that unusual? Were you in danger? He wondered if he should step in, but...nobody else seemed that phased, except for maybe your father, who had basically taken you to the floor and was examining you as if you were some sort of prize stallion.

“Oh, honey, you’ve lost so much weight! Are you eating? Are you seeing the doctors?” He asked, squeezing your arms gently. His eyes traveled up to your face, and one of his hands hesitantly patted your head. “Oh, Bumblebee...your hair.”

“Do you hate it?” You asked quietly, and for a moment Papyrus wondered if he’d have to smack your father, because he hesitated.

“...No. No, I think it looks good,” he said, just as quietly, both hands back on your shoulders as his face morphed into one of a father about to scold. “...Two years.”

You visibly blanched. “...I know.”

“Two years, no phone call, no letter, changed numbers,” the man admonished, sighing. “The boys said you were emailing them, but then you stopped suddenly. It’s dangerous in the city, we thought…”

There was silence as everyone shifted uncomfortably, cementing the thought that everyone had been wondering if you had wound up dead. From the tense air, Papyrus would guess there were varying opinions on the matter, and also varying reactions. Not everything was perfect, here, but they clearly cared for you a lot more than you anticipated, and from your wide-eyed, guilty reaction, you were obviously realizing that.

“I...I’m sor…” You paused, tears welling in your eyes as you buried your face in your hood. “...Thank you for worrying about me, Dad.”

He seemed equally bewildered by your reaction, and Papyrus decided this was a private moment, turning instead to the brothers and your (assumed) stepmother, an older woman who looked just like the tall boys flanking her, who was watching the scene with a tired smile on her face. Papyrus gathered that she was likely the only one who never once doubted you were fine out there.

“i’m papyrus, it’s nice to meet you,” he said, reaching out his hand. She took it and shook it more firmly than expected.

“Sandra. And these are my boys, Liam and Levi. I expect Roy will want some time with Hazel, so...perhaps we should take it to the living room and give them a moment.”

“Nonsense! I need no moments,” Roy said, hauling himself to his feet. “But Hazel needs lunch. You, too, son.”

He slapped Papyrus on the back firmly, as if he had known him for years, and Papyrus was left rubbing his shoulder and raising a brow at you as you stood, following the train to what he assumed was the place where lunch was going to be.

“you okay?” He asked gently, taking a moment to stop you and cup your cheek comfortingly.

You smiled and leaned into the touch with a sigh. “That went...better than expected. I think I’ll be okay.”

“Sit here, dear, you look exhausted,” Sandra cooed, pulling out a chair for you. “Levi, can you get her a glass of water?”

“I can get it my--”

“Got it,” Levi dismissed, strolling past you. “Mom’s got this fancy new water filter--probably doesn’t want to confuse you with it’s 15 settings.”

Liam took the chair beside you without a second glance to Papyrus. A challenge of sorts, and if he had been anyone else Papyrus might have dumped him from the chair. As it was, he only remained standing at your shoulder, and when Liam looked up, he only looked at him a moment.

“Papyrus Osseus, Royal Guard, Sentry and...Security,” the young man recited, looking right at you. “Status is classified. Duties are classified. Kill count...Classified. Current whereabouts...unaccounted for. Alternatively, my dining room.”

“Stuff it, Liam,” you hissed. “Don’t be that way.”

“You’ve brought him to my house. I get to be that way.” He looked up at Papyrus and the calm blue was more of a raging ocean.  _ Don’t fuck with my family. _

“big fan of monster politics, i see,” Papyrus noted. “not a huge fan m'self. kept my nose outta anything that didn't involve my brother, but unfortunately most everything involved him.”

“Sans Osseus, Captain of the Royal Guard,” Liam recited, not breaking his stare. “Status is inactive. Duties are classified. Kill count...45 monsters, none above ground. Lives in New Ebott's monster district.”

“Liam has a photographic memory,” you said, a warning in your voice. “And he has a bad habit of reading people's personal files and reciting them as an intimidation tactic.”

“Not everyone. Just the people responsible for the death of my sister.”

“You don't know the whole story,” you said, and even Papyrus was surprised by the echoing of the words he'd first used on you. “That's why I'm here, actually.”

You picked up one of the albums from where Papyrus had set it down in the kitchen table, and suddenly he felt stupid for not seeing your main goal from the start.

You slid the album over to Liam, choosing not to explain, and he looked at Papyrus...and then opened it to investigate.

You both watched as his face changed, realizing he wasn't looking at pictures of you. Eventually everyone ended up gathered around, confused awe and tearful surprise.

“What is this? Where did you get these?” Sandra asked, fingers lightly brushing a picture of Eliza at around 15, covered in dirt in the middle of a garden.

“The former king,” you explained. “He found her when she fell and raised her, and when she was around 23 she left to try and find a way back to us, and said if she couldn't she would donate her soul so that future children could.”

You slid the album of artwork towards them.

“So...I know there's more to it than that, believe me, I know,” you sighed, and Papyrus put his hand on your shoulder and you covered it with yours. “But at the very least, I thought you deserved to see these, too.”

“Oh, Roy,” Sandra cooed, putting an arm around her husband as he brushed the freely streaming tears from his face. “It's alright, dear.”

“My little girls...both brought back to me today by the grace of monsters,” he blubbered, turning an intense stare on Papyrus. “I don't know what you've done, son, but...thank you. Somehow, I just know you made all of this possible.”

Liam was silent as both Levi and your father moved to shake his hand. Papyrus gathered he wasn't that easy to win, but the silent exchange occurring between him and you was...reassuring. In the end, you were smirking and he shook his head, a tiny smirk of his own forming.

“Enough waterworks, by the Gods,” Roy huffed, clapping his hands. “To lunch!”

* * *

It was dark when he parked your car back at your apartment and ported you both back to his place, Tupperware upon Tupperware of leftovers in hand and you asleep on his shoulder before he reached the bed.

Or maybe not, because you spoke softly as he slipped his shoes off.

“I'm glad you came with me. They like you.”

He chuckled. “they like  _ you _ . i was just a face, proof that you believed what you were preaching about forgiving monsters.”

“No, they like you,” you yawned, one hand curling around the back of his neck as he carried you carefully to the bed. “Dad even called you Son.”

“oh, that's unusual, then? made it seem so normal.”

You hummed and he paused at the bedside, looking at you, and you shrugged.

“...Dad's always been eccentric. Sandy says he started seeing a therapist finally after I disappeared...she thinks he blamed himself for me running off to the city.”

“is he responsible?”

You shrugged and left it at that. A conversation for another time, then.

As he moved to lay you down, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him down with you, and before he knew it he was kissing you, pressing you into the pillows as you kissed him with a slow intensity that left his head spinning.

“I do forgive you,” you said quietly. “For everything you've done. What you've had to do. It isn't okay, and it never will be, but I forgive you.”

“why…” he started, kissing you once more, softly, before pulling back and staring at you with hazy, half-lidded sockets. “...is that exactly what i needed to hear tonight?”

You giggled beneath him, and he resisted the urge to kiss you until you couldn't breathe.


	24. A Working Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How you went from fighting monsters to working with them, you aren't entirely sure.  
> But you're a lot happier here.

**Ginger Frap:** Hey don't mean 2 sound like a nag here but when are you coming home? I know you took hobbes but the landlord is whispering about kicking u out

**(xxx):** What? He can't do that. I've paid up through the month. I have a few weeks left.

**Ginger Frap:** still think u should come home soon. he might be worried ur skipping out on ur contract by paying in advance.

**(xxx):** Shit. Okay. I'll figure it out.

**Ginger Frap:** But Hey, don't let it freak you out, ok? Everything is gonna be ok

**(xxx):** Yeah, I'm not freaking out, I'll be fine.

 

You were definitely freaking out, and you were certainly not fine.

Two weeks.

How did you let this happen?? You have two weeks to make enough money to pay next month's rent and you haven't been doing anything the entire time you've been with Papyrus. You've been healed for some time now, and he hadn't said anything and you hadn't said anything, and oh God, what if--

“hey, what's wrong?”

You looked up at Papyrus with a comically distressed face, and you could tell he wanted to laugh at it.

“...Nothing.”

“yeah, something is,” he prodded, rolling over to face you. “we've barely just woken up an’ y'look like yer gonna snap a blood vessel.”

He freed his hand from the blankets and gently caressed your arm, snuggling closer, and you sighed.

“I haven't got the money to pay rent on my apartment this month because I've been sitting around like a lump,” you admitted. “I have two weeks until it's due and my landlord is already up my neighbor's ass about where he thinks I am.”

He made a sleepy noise of understanding.

He'd honestly forgotten that you'd have to go home someday. He'd gotten so comfortable with having you here that he had just assumed that you lived here now.

But for some reason, suggesting you move in seemed the wrong thing to do. Firstly, he doesn't think either of you are really ready for that--he's still getting used to independence, and you're learning to value yourself. It might  _ feel _ good to move in together, but it might not be the best move, in the end. Besides, offering so early might make you think he's trying to control you or trap you, and he wants you to feel like you have somewhere you can go if you need space.

So maybe it would be better if…

“could pick up some shifts at muffet's,” he offered. “nobody there'd dare lay a hand on ya after seein’ ya with me, and it's more exclusive than most monster bars. quieter. she's always lookin’ for new wait staff.”

“...think she'd hire me? I've never waited tables before. I've never worked, like, a real job.”

“no? only underground with the razorbacks?”

You shrugged. “Mostly security gigs? Escorting important people safely, or enchanting locks.”

“really?” He propped himself up on one elbow. “huh. i wouldn't have pegged you for those but i guess it makes sense.”

He grinned at you, pinching your nose playfully.

“been so long since i'd seen ya form a shield i almost forgot you're crazy good at it.”

You blushed at the compliment, laughing nervously. “It...well, it is pretty cool, isn't it? The only thing I really do right.”

“muffet's is perfect, then. she could use enchanted locks and security, and you can work with catty.”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of Catty, but it also apparently made you think of something you didn't like because it faded just as quickly.

“...but Sans will be there, won't he?”

“oh. not often, but sometimes, i guess. but he likely won't be without me around.”

You made a little “oh” noise, and he accepted that you'd think about it.

“are we up? 'cause if we're up, i can think of a better use for these teeth than chatterin’.”

You giggled as he rolled over, kissing you and kissing you and kissing you until you were both panting like you'd just run a marathon.

The question of you moving in was never closer to the tip of his tongue than it was at the sight of you, pink-faced and shy beneath him.

* * *

Papyrus leaned back in his favorite booth with a sigh, watching you run around with Muffet, reminding himself to cast aside the urge to step in.

Muffet didn't pull her punches, this he knew, and he was sure it would get worse before it gets better, but you were taking her instruction pretty well.

He mentally noted how much he was watching you and tore his gaze away, taking a deep breath. 

He busied himself instead with the placemat and crayons Muffet had cheekily placed in front of him, drawing an angry marshmallow with sharp teeth attack a campsite. Serves those campers right for sticking baby 'mallows in the butt and roasting them. Maybe he'd show you this and ask if you could draw one, too--he'd love to see your hands curving across the page, all that talent waiting to be shined and displayed…

...he wondered what kept you from it. For that matter, you'd once cooked him a breakfast sandwich out of what he believed was literally thin air, and yet when asked about cooking you shrugged and said you sucked at it. Seemed everything you were good at was something to stuff down the tube and forget about. Cooking, drawing...he wondered what other hidden talents you were ignoring in your insecurity.

At least you appreciated your shield. Without that confidence he may never have met you!

He glanced up as Muffet steered you over to his booth.

“Here's your uniform, you start in two hours but firstly--” Muffet dumped a bundle of clothes in your arms. “--you'll need to taste everything on the menu at some point, so we can serve up a few dishes now and let our favorite freeloader help you through them.”

She punctuated her sentence with a sternly raised eyebrow and a teasing smirk at him, and he winked before he could stop himself.

...he hoped you hadn't seen that but the likelihood of that was exactly zero.

“I'm not hungry,” you mumbled, face paling at the thought of eating an entire menu's worth of food.

“yeah, y'are. start with the top of the menu, muff, i'll make sure it doesn't go t'waste.”

You watched her nod and walk away, but instead of sitting with him you were staring at the clothes in your arms with a frown.

“what's goin’ on, little rabbit?” He hummed, trapping you behind one leg and making you stumble closer to him.

“...I can't wear this,” you sighed, jostling the bundle of clothes in your arms. “I'll look like an idiot.”

“oh?” He asked simply. He knew what Muffet's uniforms looked like--a pencil skirt a bit on the shorter side and a lace-backed button-up blouse. It was stylish and you would look  _ adorable _ in it. “i disagree. but let's talk 'bout that after we eat.”

He pulled you into the booth beside him and moved the clothes from your arms to the ledge by the window as Muffet came around with several trays of sides in her many arms.

“Fries, Sweet potato fries, fried pickle nickels, jalapeno poppers…” She said as she slid those on the table. Your face was hilarious. She slid the rest alongside them. “Fruit salad, green salad, pastry strips and onion rings. Start with those and we will see where we are.”

“eat one of everything at least,” he offered as she left, shoving a fry in his mouth and handing you one. You looked positively green at the idea. “...you can start with the salads if you want.”

You reluctantly filled your plate, a sense of great trepidation as you stared at the heaping mess. You knew what fries and onion rings taste like, do you really need to do this?

“Why is this fry orange?” You asked, poking it with a furrowed brow.

“s'a sweet potato fry. never had one?”

“No.” You had stopped eating everything in sight by the time different fried things had come into style.

He held one out to you and you gave him a look, but he looked so cheeky and adorable trying to feed you that you gave in.

He watched your face change comically quick and snickered.

“Who's idea was that? Because I want to kiss their genius face.”

“would you believe it if i said it was me, so you'd kiss me?” He asked, and you giggled as he leaned in, kissing you and tasting distinctly of fries.

After that it was easier to get you to try things, and he noticed a glimmer of the chef he suspected you were in there when you talked to Muffet, praising her herb choices. Even Muffet was impressed when you recognized the special use of oregano in her fries.

“You've got a good sense of tasters, dearie,” she said. “Shall I get another round going?”

“Oh…” 

You deflated, and Papyrus leaned in to intervene. “we'll try entrees another time. scurry, little rabbit, time to try that outfit on.”

You made a face but obeyed, making your way to the little bathroom Muffet had showed you earlier.

* * *

Your first shift was intense, with more running around than you'd done in an awfully long time. 

Whatever Papyrus' definition of "quiet" was it likely didn't line up with yours--for a relatively secret bar, it seemed every monster in the monster district knew about it, and you were so busy that you didn't even have time to fret about your outfit.

Once or twice Papyrus stepped in and took your plates from you, declaring it break time and letting you rest as he took over for a few minutes. Muffet didn't seem to mind, but the other patrons seemed incredibly jumpy when he served them, and you were wondering if his Hellhound rep was not just for humans. But for the most part, he stayed in his booth, and you brought him extra fries and more barbeque sauce throughout the night, and he always responded with a cheeky smile and a terrible pickup line. The faces beside him changed every now and then, but he stayed all night, and you were happy for it.

“Miss! Another beer, please!”

“Coming!”

Papyrus watched you skitter about, happy to serve those at the tables. Despite your nervousness and usual anxieties, you seemed more in your element than he thought you would be, and he supposed that setting aside your feelings for the sake of others had always been a thing you've done. 

As much as he liked the romantic idea of it being just the two of you, outside world a distant memory, he also had to accept that you were better now, and being out and about around others and making friends and going home...

...it was inevitable, in the end. He was happy to see you were equipped for it.

When the bar dwindled down to the usual night owls, after the dinner rush, Muffet called you off for the night.

“I'd say that was a successful test run,” Muffet sighed, smiling at you. “Now then. I've no true schedule of any sort, so just whenever you feel up to working you can stop in.”

“she means, thanks for the hard work.” Papyrus translated, sliding onto the stool beside you. “don't worry, muff, i'll bring 'er around again.”

“Of course you will. You've been hiding a damn good waitress in that war zone you call an apartment, and I'll not have her light kept beneath a shade any longer,” Muffet said, crossing two pairs of her arms. The third set came up with a bundle of cash and deposited it into your hands. “There's your tips for the night, love.”

_ “Tips?!” _ You squeaked, counting out the bills quickly. “This is over $300!”

“Yes, it does come out to a bit after it translates from G,” Muffet mused. “But there's also a fairly large chunk, about half, from one particular customer.”

“What? Really?” You frowned, trying to think of anyone who stood out to you enough to think they liked you that much.

“Yes, and he's a sappy fool,” Muffet said, flicking Papyrus between the sockets. “I hope you bleed this one dry, and teach him a lesson.”

“aw, it shoulda been a secret, muff,” Papyrus groaned. “that's why i gave it t'you instead'a her.”

You looked back at Papyrus in shock, and he only shrugged. You'd been doing so well and working hard all night, you deserved it.

“Rus, I can't take that much money from you,” you started, sounding confused and shaken. “Your apartment costs way more than mine--”

“i got plenty.” He folded your hand around the bundle of cash, holding it gently. “m'only payin’ ya for puttin’ up with me watchdoggin’ ya all night.  _ nothing else. _ ”

“You did that for me, though.”

“an’ this is for me. i wantcha to know you did really good today, an’ i wantcha to have your apartment if that's what y'want.”

You smiled softly. “...okay. Thank you, I'm nearly halfway there now.”

Muffet huffed out a laugh. “Good. Then I can trust I'll see you tomorrow night once more?”

You turned your smile on her, and Papyrus was so proud of the sparkle in your eye that he could have kissed you right then, in front of everyone. 

“You bet!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having far too much fun with these babies and this fluff. I'm glad you all are enjoying it, too!


	25. That Old Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a theory.  
> It isn't much of a theory, but it was a theory nonetheless.

You had a theory.

It wasn't much of a theory, but it was a theory nonetheless.

You think Papyrus used to make music.

The signs were everywhere. He had a real head for music, always bobbing his head to something stuck in his skull, critiquing poorly made jingles on TV, humming as he cooks, drumming his fingers in a distinctly piano-like pattern when a piano played in the background. He had sheet music for the Imperial March framed, and signed by John Williams, hanging on the wall.

You didn't have much experience with skeleton monsters besides him, but his finger bones bowed slightly and were crazy pliant, which made you wonder if maybe he had trained them to keep up with difficult chords. And he had a journal that he scribbled in every now and then, one he labeled 'poems’ in tiny, messy handwriting.

You can't be sure, of course, because you've never seen him play an instrument or outright sing, and he's never mentioned music or instruments at all.

You're almost afraid to ask, because you assume someone doesn't voluntarily give up the things they love for no reason. But your curiosity has always been a weak point for you, so you've begun subtly asking around at Muffet's during your shifts.

“Hey, Catty, did Rus ever make music?” You asked. “He seems so focused on beats and patterns and stuff.”

Catty hummed, flicking her hair over her shoulder as you tucked your tray against your side to lean against the wall beside her. “I remember hearing he, like,  _ used  _ to play an instrument. It was long before I met him, though--Muffet's known him longer, so, like, she might know?”

You hummed, unsure if you wanted to beg the favor of information from your boss. She’d already been nice enough to employ you, and put up with Papyrus’ puppyguarding for at least half of each shift. You’d almost made enough in tips to pay your rent, which meant tonight would likely be all that you need. Then you can start working toward paying Papyrus back for his kindness.

At the end of the night you bid goodbye to a few regulars--extremely good tippers, who seemed vocal about how “most monsters would kill to be served by a cute little human like you”. With a sigh you sat, counting your tips for the night that had been shoved haphazardly into your apron pocket.

Twenty...fifty...eighty dollars. Damn, just short of rent, and there’s only a few days left. You chewed your lip thoughtfully, wondering how else you can make up the cash. You could probably sell some of the jewelry you have, Camden gave most of it to you anyway so it was probably a good catharsis...you only needed about $50 more, and you think the thick diamond pendant on that necklace he gave you last year would fetch a good price...or more likely whoever you tried to hock it to would think that you stole it, considering you didn’t exactly scream ‘trustworthy’.

“Oh, good, you haven’t left yet,” Muffet hummed appearing from the office with an envelope. “Here you are, dearie.”

“What’s this?” You asked, taking it with trepidation. You’d been tricked and bribed and cajoled more times than you’d like in this life.

She adjusted her glasses with genuine confusion in her many eyes. “Your paycheck, of course. It  _ is _ Friday, after all.”

You stared at her a long moment, before the weight of her words sunk in. “Wha...but, I’ve  _ been _ getting paid?”

“Goodness, child, you didn’t think I would let you work for only  _ tips, _ did you?” Muffet gasped, looking near-offended. “Tips are only the extra, dearie, you still deserve to earn wages.”

You feel pretty dumb, honestly, but you also have never worked a real job before. You’d always gotten paid at the moment of, straight from the customer’s hands--protection and enchantments weren’t exactly an hourly service. Or otherwise you just got whatever your split of the take was from the Razorbacks.

Working hourly had always seemed mundane, and yet somehow out of your grasp.

“Oh,” you said smartly.

Muffet chuckled, a distinctive 'fuhuhu’ you'd grown used to over the past week. “Well, in any case, you've earned it. And there's a starting bonus included to cover the training time and some of the time you were injured.”

“What? Bu-but I didn't even work here when I got hurt!”

“Perhaps not, but the Osseus brothers never do alliances halfway,” she stated. “Sans insisted you be compensated for the emotional and physical stress he caused you, and it was easiest to add it to your paycheck.”

Suddenly the envelope was cold in your hands.

Hush money. That's all that was. Either proof he didn't trust you or that he didn't think his brother was capable of the job he'd been assigned. He wanted you to stay quiet about him shooting you so that he could continue to pretend everything he does is in self-defense, just as that was his entire reason for assigning Papyrus to you.

With this, you were left wondering if Papyrus’ affections were actually true...he had once said that he'd do anything to complete his task of keeping you quiet, even if it meant seducing you. Compounded with how nice and generous everyone was, all people that were directly under Sans’ thumb, it was possible it was all controlled, all carefully constructed to get a powerful mage to work for their benefit…

...was it all a lie?

And if so...do you actually mind? Goodness knows he treats you better than anyone else, and you've let people use you before.

It didn't change the fact that you owed him big time.

“Thank you, Muffet. Hey, I have a question, do you have a minute before Rus comes to get me?”

* * *

You'd been awfully quiet the last few days, more so than usual, so when Catty picked you up to take you shopping, Papyrus had jumped at the chance to get you out of your shell a bit.

He didn't know what had convinced you to start trusting everyone, but he was happy it at least only extended to the people he did. He had no problem letting you go spend some of your hard-earned cash and letting Catty take you to pay your rent--after all, he can't do everything with you, even if it means forcing himself to go home halfway through your shifts or consciously making himself do meal prep instead of following you to the market.

It's good practice, and the fact that his tactics for distracting himself were working was proof of his progress. If he'd been asked a year ago to let Sans go to the market or work or anywhere alone, he would have absolutely lied and said he would, then followed regardless.

In the background he'd turned on some channel with mostly music videos, and with your absence he actually felt like maybe he could sing along. His fingers played a few piano chords against the cutting board as he put a third pre-made snack plate aside to be refrigerated for you for later.

It wasn't as if he was necessarily embarrassed to sing in front of you, or anything like that. He was quite aware of his musical talent, his penchant for anything that required memorizing patterns or muscle memory and dedication. In fact, carefully disentangling himself from any sort of instrument or musical association had been incredibly hard…

...but music was personal and strong, especially to monsters. His poetry often turned to song lyrics, but they were his way of baring his soul. And while he might have felt comfortable indulging in those releases underground in the privacy of their home, once Sans had made captain it had become a liability and he'd packed it away, selling his instruments to buy the fabrics to make his brother's uniform with care. He'd seen it as a necessary sacrifice--Dr. Stephens called it 'martyr syndrome’.

He had never quite been able to get back into it up here. He knows Dr. Stephens encourages him to put more into his own hobbies and use whatever avenues of creative outlet he has, but for some reason the idea that it was behind him had stuck, yet to be rattled loose. He'd tried buying an instrument before, several times, but somehow something else always got in the way--his rent was so high here, most places don't take G, he sometimes gave it away to monsters struggling more than him, and then you came along and, not that he minded, but he now buys more and better groceries. 

And drops $150 on you because it makes you happy. He probably could have made a better choice for that $150, but honestly? He felt better about  _ that  _ choice than any other.

There's no reason you would need to know it put him close to broke to keep you here. You more than made up for it in making him happy.

After he finished snack prep and put dinner aside, ready to go in the oven, he collapsed on the couch with a sigh and tried to focus on the television. It was warm inside his apartment today, and beads of sweat were starting to form along his brow, but that was remedied by wrestling his sweatshirt off.

His hand lingered at his collarbone, devoid of his collar and lead as it had been since he and Sans had separated. Some days he missed having it there to ground him. He knows it's just a symbol of how they had shackled themselves together, and this was truly the best choice for them both, but  _ man, _ living apart could get boring. Maybe he'd buy a necklace or something just for the familiar weight.

Next time he had money.

He relaxed, more than content to be lazy. If anything went wrong out there, no doubt you or Catty or whoever was on guard would call him, and he was beginning to like the alone time. It's infinitely better to tease you 'til you blush and cuddle you all day, but it's much healthier for the both of you to have some time apart. If he wanted this to work then he'd have to encourage this.

The door was left unlocked so you could just walk right in, and he perked up at the chatter of goodbyes and the creak of the wood.

He didn’t expect you to come in lugging a package almost as big as you.

“woah, don’t break your back, there, little rabbit,” he said, gracefully pulling himself from the couch to grab the heavily wrapped item. “if y’had a big thing like this, why didn’t y’ask me to come help lug it home?”

“Well, I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” you huffed, blushing deeply immediately. “It’s, uhm...it’s for you.”

“what?” He chuckled, hefting the weight against his shoulder. “you didn’t have t’give me anything. you coulda spent yer money on yourself.”

“Could have, but I wanted to repay you for everything you’ve done for me,” you said, playing with the hem of your hood. “Outside of caring about me and wanting to be with me, which I somewhat begrudgingly accept even though you’re crazy, you also healed me and saved my life. And you’ve helped me with problems that have nothing to do with you.”

“s’my pleasure. doesn’t need a thank you,” he cooed, tracing a stray curl down the side of your face and smiling softly as you leaned into the touch.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have to say it,” you countered, before moving closer and standing on your tiptoes, leaning your face up, gripping his tank top impatiently. He chuckled, getting the picture and leaning down to meet you in the middle for a sweet kiss. “Mmm...so, thank you.”

“you’re very welcome,” he hummed, then smiled cheekily. “so what’s the package for?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just open it.”

He laughed and carefully brought it over to the couch, where you perched on the arm to watch as he carefully peeled away layers of strange fabric.

His eyes widened as they fell on what he uncovered, a keyboard all-too-familiar, right down to the stickers and well-worn keys.

This was  _ his _ keyboard. From years ago. He’d hocked it to buy a bolt of leather for Sans’ uniform, and yet, here it was, in his lap, looking better than the day he lost it.

“I was looking for a violin, actually,” you admitted. “For some reason you struck me as a violinist, and I love violins. But this, well, it was nowhere near the rest of the instruments but it was so painstakingly restored. I was drawn to it for the character it had, but then when I got closer, I knew it was the piece I needed.”

You reached over and moved the fabric over just a bit, revealing his name etched into the recently-shined plastic, which he’d done himself with a bowie knife--you mark everything that’s yours in the underground, and instruments were no exception.

“See?” You said softly, eyes trained on him, waiting for his reaction. “...It was yours, right?”

Papyrus chuckled but didn’t answer, turning it over in his hands to inspect it. Whoever restored it, they were a genius--he’d kept all the little cosmetic imperfections that made it special, the many stickers and carvings Papyrus had added over the years, but it was shined and tweaked and tightened. The back panel, which often used to fall off, was now screwed on tight with shiny new screws, and the keys, despite having deep scratches from his sharpened fingertips, had been tightened to the perfect uniform amount of give.

Finally, he realized you were waiting for a response, and he sighed, splaying his hand over the etched letters of his name.

“of all the things to find at that flea market, i can’t believe you found this old thing.” He turned and brushed your ear, resting his hand on the back of your head as he looked you right in the eye, certain he looked much softer than he wanted but finding he didn’t care. “think it’s my turn to say ‘thank you’.”

You follow his insinuation, leaning in and meeting him in the middle for a kiss, and this time it didn’t stop for a long while, punctuated only by a single pause to move the keyboard from his lap so he could drag you to it instead, kissing your blushing face until you couldn’t be any redder.

He’d never had anyone think about him like this, and he appreciated it more than you could imagine, and he was sure to let you know that as he popped dinner in the oven. And again when you had eaten, and again when brushing your teeth, and once more into your ear before you both fell asleep.

Tomorrow when you woke, for the first time, you woke to the sound of music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fluff is killing me softly I love it  
> These nerds need to make some sweet love already


	26. Netflix and Chills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about time you finally went home.  
> But that doesn't necessarily have to mean giving up what you have.

**** You hummed, petting Hobbes as he sprawled across your chest contentedly, whereas Calvin sulked on the floor because there were no ducks allowed on the bed.

Gentle piano filled the apartment, and you vaguely recognized it as the piano part of a Panic! At the Disco song. You think it was from their experimental album,  **_Pretty. Odd_ ** . Regardless, it had new life beneath Papyrus’ fingertips, and the serenity of listening to him play was worth every penny it cost to buy the thing.

He didn't sing, but he hummed along, and you believed one day he might start singing. You imagined that rich, deep voice singing to you, and the warmth you felt suddenly had very little to do with the blankets or the early morning sun.

...you wondered, not for the first time, why he didn't just offer to have you move in when the issue of your apartment came up. You had to reserve a spot for the idea that he still intended to cast you out at some point, though likely not as harshly as you imagine. You can't expect him to just want you to move in right away like that just because he was better to you than Camden was.

But he also hasn't asked you to leave, and you wonder if that should be a problem, too. He seemed to be worried he was controlling or babying you, maybe it had something to do with his therapy sessions...maybe spending nights at home was better for him, and therefore your...friendship. Relationship. Whatever you call it.

Maybe for his sake you should make the first move. It’s likely that it would be good for you to have your own space, too, even if you’d miss this fairytale sorely.

The piano music stopped, and you lazily looked up as he got up from the stool and came back over to the bed, clearly excited about something.

“What’s up?” You giggled as he rolled into bed, eyelights sparkling as he pulled you and Hobbes close to his chest and kissed your temple, your cheek, your jaw.

“m’just...happy.” He smiled, and for once it seemed like a regular smile instead of a smirk that hid something. “been a long time since i could say i was happy. you, music...the 'kids'.”

His tone was teasing as he scritched Hobbes’ chin, the engine-like purr starting up immediately. You rolled your eyes.

“You make me happy, too, you know,” you said softly, fluttering a sweet kiss on his cheekbone. He hummed and melted into the pillows. “...Which is why I need you to let me know if you need your space.”

His grin fell, more of a playful scowl, but he wasn’t angry. “you wanna go home?”

“I want what’s going to be best for us. We did start sort of backwards,” you pointed out. “I just don’t want to rush anything and ruin it.”

He nodded minutely. “yeah...as much as i want you here with me all the time...it isn’t right to do that to you, with the things i’m working through. so, if you wanna go home…”

You smiled wryly at him, and he understood easily. You didn’t  _ want _ to go home, you just had to. You both knew it. Not wanting to be apart wasn’t a bad thing, but it was a stepping stone to  _ needing _ to be together. You weren’t off the mark about starting off backwards--going from 24/7 contact to casual, proper dating was going to be a weird jump, but it would be a good one.

“we can take you back today,” he decided, sighing and nuzzling you. “but for right now, let’s pretend we don’t have to.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you sighed in return.

* * *

The move back to your place wasn’t hard--you didn’t have many things to pack up, but the difficulty was the “custody battle”.

“we can’t split them up,” Papyrus sighed, running his fingers through Calvin’s feathers as you pet Hobbes fur similarly. Calvin honked in responses, eyes closing happily at the attention. “they're already partners in crime. you should take them both.”

You frowned at that. “I dunno. I don't wanna take Calvin from you.”

“an’ i _won't_ take hobbes from you,” he said firmly. “besides, your place is bigger, and you have more tiled surfaces. they'd have more room there, and you could have a pool.”

“But then--”

“you take them,” he repeated, plopping the content duck into your arms. 

You sighed, accepting your fate with a grain of salt. You didn't really want everyone to leave Papyrus at the same time--it was important that he had someone, duck or otherwise, to make him happy.

“alright, ready?” He asked.

_No_ , you thought to yourself. But you only smiled and nodded, standing alongside him and taking his hand after he coaxed Hobbes into the carrier.

Within moments you were in your living room, and when you wrestled your eyes open, everything was in place as you had left it.

It was a good thing you had prepared for a vacation before the attack on the bookie’s, because you’d cleaned out your fridge and cupboards before hand. You only had some eggs and a few packaged goods to toss as Papyrus got to work touring Calvin around. An excuse to snoop, no doubt, but you didn’t mind.

You tossed the few spoiled groceries and stared at your empty cupboards and fridge. You know that if it were up to him, Papyrus would fill your cupboards in a heartbeat. You ate before you left, though, so maybe you can ask him to accompany you to the market tomorrow before your shift at Muffet’s, if only to prove to him that you  _ will  _ eat even if he isn’t there to make it for you.

“calvin seems comfortable,” Papyrus said, following the duck out of your bathroom, the comical slap of webbed feet punctuating his new found swagger. Seems he really liked having some extra room to strut. “drew him a bath already, hope y’don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” you said, smiling shyly at him as your feathery charge flopped off to explore on his own.

There was quiet for a long moment, and he shifted awkwardly, hands in his pockets.

“uhm, guess if that’s all, uh…”

“Oh, uh, yeah, that’s that, I guess,” you stammered, moving to open the door for him. Your hand stalled on the doorknob as he reluctantly followed, and you both hesitated again.

“maybe we could--”

“You could always--”

A pause, and then you both laughed a little.

“Sorry. Uh...you first.”

“nah, you,” he insisted, and you played with a stray curl and blushed.

“Uhm...I thought, maybe...you could always stay a little bit? I have Netflix, and we could order in.”

He smirked, chuckling a bit. 

“are you inviting me to netflix and chill?” You rolled your eyes and he laughed again, leaning down to kiss your hair and flutter fingertips against your nape, making your breath catch in your throat. “i’d like that.”

“M-me, too,” you squeaked, and his chuckle left you embarrassed but smiling as he led the way back to your couch.

He flopped on his back with a satisfied sigh, stretching out and finding with delight that the couch was actually long enough for him. You fiddled with the remote for a few minutes before he reached up and dragged you down to him, revelling in your shocked squeak as he pulled you in to be his little spoon, settling with his face pressed to your neck so he could lazily peek over your shoulder at the screen.

“What do you wanna watch?” You asked, and he hummed, distracted by the absent tracing of your fingers against his radius and ulna.

“you, mostly,” he teased, and you giggled, making him grin. He loves, loves,  _ loves _ that sound.

“Then we can turn on Biggest Loser if you're so determined to watch me,” you joked. He frowned and moved one hand to pinch your butt gently, a warning not to talk bad about yourself. You gave an indignant squeak and huffed. “Fine, sorry!”

“if you were a fruit, you'd be a  _ fine _ apple.”

“Pfft. Shut up.”

“are you a keyboard?” He asked, kissing your ear briefly as he muttered into it. “‘'cause you're jus’ my type.”

You giggled, your hands coming up to cover your rapidly reddening face.

“let me tie your shoes, because i don't want y’to fall for anyone else.”

“Oh, please!” You laughed from behind your hands.

But he wasn't done, because before you knew it he'd shifted until you rolled face-first to his chest, and then he gently pried your hands from your face, violet eyelights dancing with amusement.

Suddenly you realized you were floating with him about a foot off the couch, and he grinned as he held you close when you clung to him.

“even if there was no gravity, i'd still fall for you.”

He punctuated it by dropping you both, landing first and catching you to his chest, and you were laughing so hard you thought you might be ruining the moment…

...but one look at the genuine affection in his gaze was enough to make you feel like he didn't care.

You kissed him, and he sighed and gripped you closer, enjoying the contact and the feeling of your soft lips. He wasn't sure how he had ended up falling for you for real, so completely, but he wasn't about to complain, not when you seemed just as smitten.

He was letting you set the pace, and you were eager to telegraph your need. He let his hands wander, and you whimpered as he gripped your ass, a seductively saccharine noise that made him want to devour you.

His phone pinged.

He ignored it.

Your hands were usually so unsure, but it seemed you were confident in this, because the Intent behind those roaming fingers was making him breathe heavy. You wanted him to feel good, and  _ fuck, _ he did, he did feel good.

His phone pinged again and with an annoyed sigh he pulled it from his pocket and tossed it to the coffee table.

“Not gonna check it?” You breathed before he adjusted and pulled you back in to steal your breath again.

“when i got you in my lap?” He huffed.

You made a little satisfied noise and pressed closer. “Could be important.”

“not important enough,” he insisted, and then you were kissing feverishly again, no more talking, and his hands were cautiously daring to explore the hem of your shirt, and the soft skin of your hips undernea--

His phone rang, and you almost could have laughed at how obviously disgruntled he was.

“alright. maybe it's important,” he relented with a sigh. Even as he grabbed his phone, he was teasing a kiss and looking you in the eyes with desire. “don't go anywhere, yeah?”

“This is my apartment,” you reminded him softly as you flushed.

He smirked as he answered and held his phone to him. “hello?”

_ “MUTT! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!” _

“out. why?” He glanced up at you and shrugged.

_ “OUT, HE SAYS! I TEXTED TWICE AND EVEN SENT SOMEONE TO YOUR HOUSE, YOU PICKED A HELL OF A TIME TO BE FUCKING  _ **_OUT._ ** _ HURRY UP AND GET TO MUFFET'S, BRING YOUR SHEILDMAIDEN IF YOU HAVE TO.” _

“what's goin’ on?”

_ “CHAOS, THAT'S WHAT! THEY FOUND MUFFET'S AND WE'RE HOLDING UP WELL WITH THE NEW WARDS THAT GIRL SET, BUT NONE OF THAT WILL MATTER IF THEY BREAK THROUGH AND YOU AREN'T HERE!” _

His chest felt tight. Muffet's was supposed to be safe. It was supposed to be untraceable. The only way they would have found it was…

...if they followed you from his apartment the days he'd let you walk instead of teleporting you there.

“i'll be right there.”

He hung up, feeling incredibly dumb. He's always broken everything he touches, since he was little, always left destruction in his wake even when he tried not to. He can't believe he'd let his own bliss erase his instincts like that--just because he was comfortable with you didn't mean that you or anyone else was any less vulnerable.

The universe had a pretty messed up sense of humor, making him codependent and dangerous and then sending the tiniest, gentlest, most anxious ball of love possible to heal him. 

“think you could go for muffet's right now?” He joked, knowing full well you could hear his brother's shouting. “hear they're havin’ a  _ kick-ass  _ special.”

You nodded and got up quickly, herding Calvin into the bathroom and grabbing your coat, not a moment's hesitation or anxiety when it came to protecting others.

So precious.

And now they know your face, and if they didn't then they would by the end of the night.

He could only desperately hope he didn't break you in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other shoe: *waits giddily in the wings*


	27. Fighting Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The odds aren't exactly in his favor, but they aren't exactly out of his favor either.  
> As for you, they underestimated you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought it was all gonna be fluff! It's like you people don't know me at all!  
> I didn't give Hazel crazy-strong magic for nothing!

Papyrus let out a strangled cry when his shortcut was, heh,  _ cut short _ unexpectedly, sending both of you tumbling into the alley.

Immediately he heard you cry out and saw you clutch your hand, and the irony of his last thoughts before the shortcut was bitter in his mouth.

He was on his knees over you immediately, helping you to yours.

“Wh-what happened?” You asked, biting back tears as they threatened. He gathered your hand in his and channeled hasty healing into it, hoping it would at least tide you over until he could get you inside. At least it didn't seem to be broken.

“hit some sort of a fuckin’ wall,” he hissed. “shit. shit, you okay, little rabbit?”

You nodded, and chuckled a bit. “Did you...did you try to teleport directly inside the bar?”

“duh?” He scoffed reaching over with a free hand to pull your hood over your head. “armed men swarming nearby, not gonna bother knocking.”

“I warded against teleportation,” you sighed. “They said they told you. That since you were always supposed to port outside and knock, it wouldn't matter.”

He looked up at you in a mixture of confusion and awe, shocked that you could create an enchantment stronger than him. An active shield, sure, but an enchantment? “that's...incredible talent. you're one bad bitch, darlin’.”

You blushed, and normally he would explore that, but now was not the time. The air was thick with magic, but it was eerily silent. He helped you to your feet, and before he could ask there was a small, sturdy shield around you both as you took his hand, trailing only slightly behind but next to him. You stayed on his good side, not his partially blind side, and he let out a sigh of relief. You were godsend, really.

The alley wasn't far from the door, but he could feel your magic buzzing in the walls. Enchantments were always fainter than active magic, but they still held a bit of the mage or monster's signature energy.

“they might have guns,” he said quietly, and you squeezed his hand tighter, but said nothing.

The streets around the entrance were quiet, but he sensed...a number of people around.

“Fifteen,” you said. “There's fifteen souls around. No mages or monsters. There's plenty more inside but only monsters and the Razorbacks.”

“you can see souls?” He asked, scanning quickly as he walked backward towards the door.

“Can't you?” You whispered back, and he shook his head.

“not without seein’ their bodies. but i can smell 'em.”

It was too quiet. Too empty. He moved back, backs to the door, but held off knocking--something wasn't right.

In an instant your shield was shattered, and the stink of something heavy with magic and the smell of fire filled his nose, barring his primary hunting tool from being of any use.

“They're invisible!” You called out, trying to throw up another shield. Just in time, because someone or something landed against it with a loud  _ thunk! _

You whimpered as something broke your guard again, and the shield faltered. Dammit, you were too out of practice, still recovering--active battle is no place for you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders and knocked heavily on the door behind him as footsteps clattered towards him.

The moment it cracked open he threw you in, and despite your protests he pulled the door shut, firmly putting it between the two of you as a wall of bones appeared between him and the footsteps. They faltered momentarily, and the thick scent began to wear away a tiny bit.

“ABOUT TIME YOU SHOWED UP,” Sans said, hopping down from where he'd likely been keeping watch up above. “YOUR SHIELDMAIDEN IS QUITE IMPRESSIVE. THEY'VE BEEN TRYING TO MOLOTOV THE PLACE FOR OVER AN HOUR, BUT THANKS TO HER WARDS THEY CAN'T TOUCH IT. WE'RE ABLE TO WAIT UNTIL WE COULD SEE THE WHITES OF THEIR COWARDLY EYES.”

“which, i gather, hasn't happened yet.”

“INDEED NOT.” The words were spat with distaste. These people had clearly gotten their hands on some higher level cloaking enchantments, which means that either they have a mage on their side or the monsters have a traitor.

Without your shield, he'd have to be a bit more careful, but he'd made do without it before. They knew him enough to boggle his sense of smell and take away his ability to see him, so they were smart. Unfortunately for them, they were rather loud walkers, and he had a number thanks to you.

“fifteen, and they aren't cloaking their steps.”

“AMATEURS.” He gave him a quick glance. “YOU'VE NOT GONE SOFT ON ME, I TRUST?”

“if anything i got more t'fight for than ever, and a reason not to die.”

Black raised a gloved hand and snapped, magenta sigils surrounding it and branching up his arm.

“TO NOT DYING, THEN, AND TO LOVELY LADIES WAITING FOR US.”

Well. He'd have to unpack that bit of news later, it seemed.

The scattershot rang out swiftly, and it didn't escape Papyrus’ notice that it was almost entirely silenced. He must have sacrificed a great deal of power and spread to achieve that, but it meant he was thinking about your phobia. Perhaps it was only in order to keep you fit to defend, but it was nice to see his brother thinking of someone else.

Cries of anguish as the calculated guess nailed at least five, drops of blood dripping from them.

Suddenly one was visible, clutching his hand where a finger had been shot off, along with the ring on it. So rings...he needs to get in close and grapple to try and pull them off. He'll probably take a few hits but that would be a necessary danger.

“MUTT.”

“yes, m'lord?”

His brother curled his hand back, gearing up for another scattershot. His Intent would never be to harm Papyrus--he'd be the only one in range that was perfectly safe.

Sans smirked, teeth curling unnaturally into a terrifying snarl.

“FETCH.”

He breathed in deep, magic boiling in his bones, his marrow churning and begging to break out.

But he remained in control. He remained focused, eyeing first the visible one who seems to realize how fucked he is.

“yes, m'lord.”

* * *

You tried to protest, but the door slammed in your face with no warning, and your heart plummeted to your stomach.

_ He didn't want you out there with him. You were only in the way. _

You pushed past Catty and ignored everyone to get to the nearest window, straining to see him, but all you could see was the seemingly empty street.

“No!” You smacked the window in frustration. You can't protect him from here! He's strong, sure, but you aren't stupid. These people are invisible and they know how to mess with his sense of smell. You've worked with enough people to know that having only 3 senses to go on is a major handicap.

You felt hands on you and you flinched away, but it was only Muffet, prying you from the window.

“We're all worried, dearie, but the boys can handle themselves,” she said, before pulling you close for a teary, many-armed hug. “Thank you for what you've done. You saved my bar, and my family, with your enchantments.”

Bewildered, you looked over her shoulder at the scattered faces looking back. You'd been so focused on Papyrus that you hadn't even noticed that everyone looked like shit.

“...the fight didn't start here, did it?” You asked as she pulled away. 

She shook her head. “It did not. They attacked the market square first as a distraction. Alphys was on duty, and she held them off fairly well, but she is only one warrior.”

“Is anyone hurt?” You asked, heart sinking as you looked at the monsters and Razorbacks around you.

Gabriel raised his hand. “They cut Christian up pretty bad, but he's okay. Put some whiskey on it and ate some of Miss Muffet's pastries and he's restin’.”

“Thank God he made it here,” you sighed. “I need to help them, they're invisible but I think I can break their enchantment if I can just get a lock on the magic signature.”

“Looks like it was, like, a ring or something,” Catty said, leaning back from the slit in the door. “Want me to see if they can grab it?”

“Yes, please! Even if it broke I should be able to disarm it, and then I can send out a pulse for the rest.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are very talented?” Muffet chuckled as Catty whistled through the slit and said something in code.

You laughed, blushing. “One person. Once.”

Muffet smirked, a sense of pride flashing in her eyes. “Well. Get us through this and you will never hear the end of it, dearie.”

“Got it!” Catty exclaimed, catching an expertly tossed ring as it zoomed through the slit. She tossed it to you, and you fumbled with it until you eventually caught it.

A quick look told you most of what it was, but you would need a few things if you were going to find it's exact frequency.

“I need, uhhhhh….a radio, some tweezers, and water.”

“Coming right up,” your boss said, disappearing behind the bar.

You glanced out the window again, and your heart clenched as you watched Papyrus jump into the fight, blind as a bat.

“Be safe,” you muttered as you moved away from the window to set up and focus on the ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, when the going gets tough, the tough get going! Hazel didn't survive this long in her line of work by folding under pressure.


	28. A Brave Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's very little you won't do for the people you care about. Even if it's completely insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're all big damn heroes in the end, y'all

This was a lot harder than he’d thought it would be.

Papyrus cursed as he soaked up another hit to the jaw, hearing the tittering laughter of the invisible assholes around him. They’re playing with him, unafraid, seeing as he only had knocked out the one he’d seen. They were cocky, for good reason--this was a well-planned assault.

Sans had switched to a significantly less lethal blunt trauma bone bat that he swung with glee whenever he heard footsteps near him. He seemed to be faring a lot better than Papyrus’ bruiser tendencies, anyway, but damn if they don’t make for a hell of a delinquent aesthetic at the moment.

If he could just get his hands on those rings, he could put these guys down. Another blow barely blocked, and a quick sidestep and he was met with a sharp elbow to the side, knocking the air from him. He grabbed the arm before they could move away, calculating the way the elbow bent quickly to find their face must be right--

\--here!

The person cried out as Papyrus cracked them across the face, and he felt something solid, like glasses, crunch beneath his knuckles. He tried to then grapple for his wrists, and was almost successful, when suddenly there was a sharp pain in the back of his head. He cried out, dropping the grapple to turn and see a pipe being discarded. His vision was blurry and he stumbled, feeling his control slipping.

He growled and lashed out with a bone attack, and to his satisfaction he heard three bodies hit the ground with sharp, surprised groans. Step, step, he heard them to the left and dodged. One more step, duck--

\--but he wasn't quick enough and the hit cuffed his cheekbone, leaving his head ringing as if a screw had rattled loose in there.

“Papyrus!”

He spun on his heel, slightly dizzy at the movement, with ice in his marrow at the sound of your voice.

Where?! You weren’t on the stoop, or the street, and with trepidation he turned his face up…

...you were standing on the roof, looking desperately fearless, as if thinking too hard about what was happening might send you into a panic, and he immediately flared with anger. How could they let you get that far? Didn’t they realize he’d put you inside for a reason?!

“what are you doing?!” He called, fear and anger lacing his voice.

You gasped as he crumpled under another blow to the head, his vision swimming now as he ducked and rolled, hands and shoulders up as he hopped to his feet, listening.

“Rus, you have to catch me!” You called.

“i have to  _ what?!” _

He looked up again just in time to see your hood floating up around you as you  _ jumped off the fucking roof. _

For the briefest moment, before the panic hit, he thought you looked like a warrior princess, or a superhero.

_ So beautiful. _

Then reality hit and he was desperately grasping at your soul with blue magic, making you cry out as it yanked you harshly away from the fall in midair. But you didn’t falter, instead holding out a radio that looked like it belonged in Undyne’s lab and pulling a string on the side.

Loud static filled the streets as you then dropped heavily into his arms, making him stumble just a bit.

“what the hell are you--”

You shushed him, and he listened as the static petered out and the radio hit the pavement.

Fourteen men faded into view, or more like flickered, all shaking their hands and looking confused.

“DID YOUR HUMAN JUST... _ MAKE _ A MAGIC-SIGNATURE EMP GRENADE?” Sans asked, swinging his bat up and onto his shoulder, looking mildly impressed.

Papyrus turned to look at you, bewildered.

“I had to pull the string at a higher point so I could get them all, but I couldn’t make a time release so throwing it wouldn’t work,” you explained sheepishly. “Thanks for catching me?”

“...we’ll talk later...crazy fucking woman,” he chuckled, setting you on your feet as he turned to the crowd of men now backing away slightly, guards raised but clearly not ready to run. Sans turned and swung at the nearest one, who only barely dodged as the others surged forward, and Papyrus stepped in, starting to summon a flurry of bludgeoning bones.

“No! You’re hurt!” You insisted, stepping in front of him. He started to argue that he was fine, but the sharp throb of pain in his skull sent him to one knee. You turned and faced the group of three men surrounding you, and he gripped your hood, ready to throw you behind him if he had to.

“get inside, little rabbit, let the big bad wolf handle this, okay?”

“No! I’m not leaving your side again!” You huffed. You held up a hand to the men as they stepped forward. “Stop! You’ve already lost!”

They crashed straight into your shield, and it shattered, just like before, as if there was some sort of guardbreaker hidden in their clothes.

You huffed, and put both hands out, shoving them back a few feet as you blasted out another shield, already breathing heavy.

“This girlie thinks she’s hot shit, don’t she,” one of them chuckled, relaxing his form and smacking his mates’ chests to get them to do the same. “Maybe we should take the little monsterfucker home, remind 'er what real men can do?”

“don’t touch her!” Papyrus growled as they took a step forward, still on one knee behind you. His pounding headache was making it difficult to summon any attacks. Shit, he might have a concussion. How many times had he been hit in the head?

Before he could despair, the men stopped in their tracks, and it was a long moment before his muddled head realized why.

Catty curled her claws around the necks of the two lackeys, practically purring as she drew sharp tips over all-too-breakable skin. “Like, you heard the lady, boys. You've already lost, so leave our little lamb alone, huh?”

“Get yer filthy monster hands off of--” the ringleader stopped in his tracks as the early evening light glinted dangerously off of an invisible string around his neck.

“Oh, Dear, it seems they aren't getting the message,” Muffet sighed, approaching from the right, hands crossed and nearly invisible spider silk extending from each finger. Papyrus knew enough to know that each of those strings could be razor-sharp if she pulled quickly enough. “Look around you, fool.”

Sans yawned, catching everyone's attention as he sat atop a pile of unconscious men. The Razorbacks were busy dropping more passed out bodies against his modest pile, clapping the dust from their hands.

“FIGHT IF YOU WISH, I'VE STILL BARELY BROKEN A SWEAT. BUT I WILL TELL YOU, SEEING AS YOU ATTACKED MY BAR AND MY FAMILY UNPROVOKED, THAT NOTHING SHORT OF A MIRACLE WILL KEEP YOU OUT OF JAIL. WHETHER YOU ENJOY JAIL WITH ALL YOUR MOTOR FUNCTIONS OR NOT, WELL, THAT'S YOUR CHOICE, ISN'T IT?”

The men glared back, wisely choosing silence.

“LOVELY.” Sans hopped down from his throne of bruises and strolled in between where you stood and where your friends held the men. “HAVE THEM TAKEN TO MY BACK ROOM AND THE OTHERS TO THE STATION. I HAVE QUESTIONS THAT NEED ANSWERS.”

They did as they were told, and he hesitated to follow, turning to you.

He looked as if he might say something, but seemed to rethink it, shifting awkwardly.

“...YOU DID WELL. I OWE YOU.”

And with that he walked away after the others, and Papyrus thought for sure you'd either follow or ask him what that meant, but apparently it was the furthest thing from your mind. Instead you whirled around, and he winced at the sound of your knees hitting the pavement as you quickly knelt to check on him.

Your fingertips felt like heaven against his skull, and he wasted no time falling into your embrace, pulling you along as he teetered and fell back on his coccyx with a groan, holding you tight. Your arms tentatively returned the embrace, gentle caresses over his throbbing skull making him near whimper.

“Oh, Rus…” you sighed, sounding near tears. “That could have been bad.”

“says the girl who jumped off the roof,” he chuckled, cradling your head gently, running his fingers through your hair. Poor thing, you were shaking like a leaf--must be hard to show so much bravery in a situation like that. Him, his main trait had once been Bravery, so it still came to him somewhat naturally--but you, you just weren't built for that kind of heroics.

And yet, you pulled it off. Hmph. Humans.

“I'm more bothered by the blood than anything else,” you moaned against his shoulder, and he remembered they were still in the middle of the street, with several heavily injured men and an amputated finger less than ten feet away.

“squeamish?” He chuckled, struggling to his feet. He pulled you along, allowing you to tuck your face beneath his arm and allowing himself to lean on you.

“Understatement,” you grumbled. “I don't faint anymore, but I'm pretty sure that's just desensitization because I definitely still feel like throwing up.”

You peeked up at him from underneath his arm, and he heard you loud and clear. What you were really worried about was him.

“m'fine, little rabbit,” he assured you as he stepped through the door and Catty shut it behind him. “nothin’ that can't be fixed with whiskey and a kiss.”

You didn't seem convinced, so he let you shoo him into a booth, and watched you scurry off to retrieve the aforementioned whiskey. Man, he was tired, and a bit dizzy. He'd probably need some healing once Sans was done in the back.

But for now, it looked like everyone was striking up a celebration, and watching you interact with everyone so naturally made him feel twice as warm and fuzzy than any healing.

“Like, let's get some music going!” Catty cheered, and everyone cheered back. He smiled at the excitement buzzing from you at that, and when you returned with a bottle and a glass he accepted that his fate would include karaoke tonight.

The whiskey burned on the way down, and he sighed as he set the glass down, closing his sockets. He nearly jumped out of his nonexistent skin when he felt the press of soft lips to his skull, and you startled and pulled away.

“no, wait, come back,” he scrambled, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer, until you were standing by the booth and he could rest his head comfortably on your shoulder.

“You did say whiskey and a kiss,” you reminded him, and his battered skull shook just slightly in a nod.

“please,” he mumbled.

He didn't care that everyone was there, beyond that they were alive, of course. Right now he just liked letting you hold his aching skull and kiss his cracks and bruises.

He chuckled as he heard the music start up, and the tingle of magic from the whiskey helped lessen the pounding in his head.

Or maybe it was just you.

...yeah. It's just you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm 1000000% here for all-ladies specialized team of Hazel, Catty, and Muffet, just sayin.


	29. We Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where do you belong? Some humans think monsters belong down below. Some monsters believe that, too. But you're where you are for a very important reason.  
> You belong here.

Sans emerged from the back room to a chorus of singing and dancing, and for once, he wasn't even surprised.

He carefully picked past the crowd to the bar, instructing Alphys in a quiet manner that the men were to be allowed to leave unhindered, in exchange for sending a message to their boss.

“WHERE'S--” He stopped himself short of calling him 'Mutt’ again. Only for battle. Only on the streets. “WHERE IS PAPYRUS? I WOULD LIKE TO SPEAK WITH HIM.”

“He's a little occupied,” one of the dogs at the bar chuckled. “That corner booth is heatin’ up. Don't think he's takin’ questions right now.”

Sans let his eyes flick to Papyrus’ corner booth, and sure enough, he was there, backed up against the wall with you in his lap. You weren't making out at the moment, but from how close you were talking it wasn't unlikely you had been or would continue to at some point.

He made a face and decided to ignore it, turning back to the bourbon being poured for him. It was probably a lot harder for his brother to keep separated than it was for him, and it already wasn't a walk in the park, so if he's found someone else to ease the transition, then...well. Who is he to say no? It's his fault you're together in the first place, which he still hadn't worked up the nerve to apologize for somehow, and he'd be an idiot to complain when he's directly responsible for the two of you spending so much time together.

When he'd first heard the monsters who frequented Muffet's talking about Papyrus acting strangely, he'd initially dismissed it. But when he'd shown up the night the Hellhounds pounced, so protective of you even against  _ his _ words? There's progress, and then there's  _ that _ .

From then on it had been hard to ignore the development. You were working at the bar now, so of course everyone saw him marking his territory loud and clear with affectionate touches near-nightly, whether he realized it or not. He definitely heard enough of it from Alphys, seeing as she and Undyne seemed to like the two of you together an  _ unreasonable  _ amount. Not to mention that even when wearing your own clothes, you smelt so heavily of his brother that it surprised him--either he's actively marking you, or you're incredibly physically intimate or even sexually involved, and either way, it means the same thing.

It means his brother is moving on.

The bourbon seemed bitter in his mouth, but it was expensive, so he swallowed regardless. He'll admit he was on the fence about the separation when it had been suggested, but after agreeing to a dual therapy session with Dr. Stephens to discuss it he'd had little choice but to agree the man knew what he was talking about. He'd never noticed how much Papyrus did  _ for _ him until he was on his own in an apartment big enough for several people and no clue how to do anything but order people about.

Lucky for him, he had a good support system carefully constructed over the last century, and not only did he make do, but he found himself...thriving. Being on his own was scary, but it felt good after a while. He knows Papyrus is there for him if he needs him, though he's harder to get ahold of these days with you around, and for the first time he's actually considering taking on a serious relationship himself.

He chuckled as he sipped his drink. My, how things changed when they came to the surface.

There was cheering, and he didn't need to look to know Catty was stealing the show, her go-to ironic theme song striking up as she grabbed the microphone. Monsters were flowing through the door to join the celebration and almost all of them had to know the lyrics by now.

 

_ “Jimmy's in the back with a pocket of high _ _   
_ _ If you listen close _ _   
_ _ You can hear him cry _ _   
_ _ Oh oh, heaven knows _ _   
_ _ We belong way down below _ __   
Sing it!”

 

The bar sung back to her, a drunken chorus that made Sans chuckle.

**_  
_ ** **_“Oh oh, heaven knows_ ** **_  
_ ** **_We belong way down below_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_Way down below, way down below!”_

 

Somehow his troops had adopted this song as some sort of catharsis against those who believed they did, indeed, belong way down below. He didn’t hate it, he supposed. He bobbed his head as he signaled for Muffet.

“SEND MY BROTHER A BOTTLE OF BOURBON AND TELL HIM HE’LL NEVER GET IT UP FOR THAT LADY OF HIS IF HE KEEPS UP WITH THE WHISKEY.”

 

_ “ _ _ Judy's in the front seat picking up trash _

_ Living on the dough _

_ Gotta make that cash _

_ Won't be pretty _

_ Won't be sweet _

_ She's just in here on her feet,” _

 

Muffet’s laughter disappeared into the crowd.

 

_ “Sing it _

_ Oh oh, heaven knows _

_ We belong way down below _

_ Go! _

**_Oh oh, heaven knows_ **

**_We belong way down below_ **

_ Sing _

_ Tell her so _

_ We belong way down below _

**_Oh oh, tell her so_ **

**_We belong way down below_ **

**_Way down below, way down below!”_ **

 

“fuck off, thanks,” Papyrus said playfully, in response to Muffet’s message as he accepted the exchange of bottles. You pressed your face to his shoulder in a giggle fit. “tell ‘im i said that, too!”

You didn’t think she would, but she did leave, leaving only an extra glass.

“do y’drink, darlin’?” He asked, pouring both glasses with one hand, the other intimately caressing your hip beneath your hood.

“Special occasions, like days where I jump off the roof and stuff like that,” you giggled in response, accepting the glass he offered and clinking it with his. “Can’t promise I’ll like it unmixed, though.”

He tossed his back, setting the glass down so he could use both hands to pull your hips closer. You drank it and he chuckled at your face, before leaning closer and kissing you softly. You hummed in delight, setting your glass down and sliding your hands up his chest, warm and content.

 

_ “ _ _ One, two, three and four _

_ The devil's knocking at your door _

_ Caught in the eye of a dead man's lie _

_ Start your life with your head held high _

_ Now you're on your knees with your head hung low _

_ Big man tells you where to go _

_ Tell them it’s good, tell them okay _

_ Don't do a goddamn thing they say!” _

 

“Are you going to sing?” You asked breathlessly, and he smirked. Not tonight.

“was actually thinkin’, my head hurts, an’ it’s so loud,” he said casually. “let’s get outta here. back to plan ‘a’ for the night.”

“Netflix?” You offered, eyes sparkling in the low light of the bar.

“or chill. maybe both,” he teased, before sliding you both out of the booth. 

Before you got far, Dogamy stopped you with a camera in hand, and he let you hide against his side as he made a lewd gesture involving his tongue and fingers. Dogamy laughed as he backed up, letting you pass unhindered, and it wasn’t long before you both were spilling onto the street.

It was cleaned up already, but he was sure to tuck you securely against his side.

“wanna go for a walk?” He asked nonchalantly. He left out the fact that he shouldn’t teleport until he’s given his cranium a good, long rest.

“Can we stop for ice cream?” You joked, and he raised a brow bone at you. He regretted that questioning glance immediately, because you quickly stepped back over your words with an anxious look. “It was a joke, no, I don’t want ice cream. Too much sugar and...junk.”

“hmm...i like ice cream, but it is pretty junky. fro-yo, though, that stuff’s the tits,” he said, steering you onto the main street. “i know the perfect place, actually.”

You didn’t answer, but he saw the faintest bit of a smile reappear, and he reminded himself never to discourage you from food. That was a dumb mistake--he won’t do it again. Besides, frozen yogurt really was better.

He waved at Bonnie behind the counter as he ushered you in, staying back so he wasn’t hovering over you as you served yourself. “hey, bon-bon. when’s that little one makin’ an appearance?”

“I’m not actually sure,” the bunny monster sighed, patting her huge tummy. “It’s likely in the next month, but we’ve yet to find a doctor who can do the surgery for us. Not many monsters big on healing magic, and I’ll dust in the process without it.”

He leaned on the counter, listening to her intently. It’s true, there weren’t many monsters that were healers. And even fewer mages that knew how to use their talents. He wondered how talented you would be if you had developed your healing to the level of your shield--if you’d been less afraid and given more room to be generous, how many lives could you have saved?

“what about asgore?” He offered. “he’s pretty talented.”

“That does seem like the best option,” Bonnie agreed. “I only kept away from it because...oh! Are you ready, miss?”

You were hovering a good few feet away, your bowl of yogurt in your hands. Mostly fruit and fruit-flavored boba. Was that Oreos he saw? He’ll have to grab some of those for you.

“oh, sorry, she’s waitin’ on me.” He was quick to grab what he wanted, a heavy dose of maple syrup mixed into plain vanilla yogurt. He put it on the scale beside yours. “there we go.”

You were silent as Bonnie rung you up, and just when he thought you’d get through the whole thing without speaking, you hesitated when he moved to go sit. He looked back at you curiously.

“...can I feel?” You asked, gesturing to Bonnie’s huge baby bump.

“Of course! Any friend of Rus’ is a friend of mine!” She said, waddling out from behind the counter to present her tummy unhindered.

You hummed as you touched it lightly, and he wondered what was going on inside your head. You looked so thoughtful, so...pensive. A little faraway, like you were replaying a movie in your head...or maybe a memory.

“You’re due tomorrow,” you said matter-of factly, dropping your hands. “And there’s three of them.”

Bonnie’s eyes grew wide. “Well! How do you figure that? There’s only one soul in there, sweetie.”

“Yes, but they’re shared souls,” you explained. “I can feel it, their bond...like me and my sister. Twin souls. Only, technically, they’re triplet souls.”

You closed your eyes, as if focusing.

“Yes. Definitely three of them.” You seemed worried as you said that. “One of them is much smaller than the others. When a soul splits into three instead of two, it’s not a guarantee all pieces will be equal…”

“Are  _ you _ a doctor?” Bonnie asked hopefully. You blushed and smiled shyly.

“In another life, maybe. But no. I’m just a twin soul that knows what that bond feels like.”

Bonnie hummed and shifted her weight. “Well! I guess I’d better call Asgore, then! And my husband. Tomorrow? You’re sure?”

“Any longer and the little one might not…” You trailed off, rethinking your wording. “Yes. It has to be tomorrow.”

With that you both were ushered out with pleased ‘Thank you’s as she closed up shop early, and you sat across an outside table with him, picking at your yogurt.

He’d long since polished his off by the time you finally took your first bite, but he made no mention of it, just enjoying the quiet of the night air.

“Do you want kids, Papyrus?”

He didn’t answer immediately, weighing his words carefully with a hum. You were terrified of pregnancy, he knew that--but were you scared of motherhood? Is it the toll it will take on your body or the idea of having kids that scares you?

He wants kids. Later in life, when he’s better, when he’s sure he’s better than his father. When Sans is ready to spoil them, when they can be around each other naturally again. When the underground is long behind them.

“one day,” he said finally. “when i’m not a hot mess, sure.”

You giggled. “You’re not a mess, Rus.”

“oh? are we at that part in our relationship where you’re blind to my every flaw?” he teased, reaching over with his spoon to steal a scoop of your fro-yo. You didn’t even begin to protest, only giggling as he scooted his chair over to kiss your temple. “anyway, not ready for kids. why d’ya ask?”

You shrugged, and he let it go, certain you would tell him at some point. The walk back to your place was surprisingly short, and filled with comfortable silence. He idly wondered what the two of you should watch and inevitably fall asleep to as you unlocked your door, but when he looped towards the couch, he felt a tug on his hand as you didn’t follow.

He turned and raised a brow at you, stepping back to your side. You took his hand in both of yours, looking up at him shyly as you stepped back towards the bedroom, pulling him gently to follow.

“I was hoping...you’d come to bed with me?”

A shiver ran through his spine at the heavy implications, and his hand tightened on yours. He watched your face closely for any sign of reluctance, and upon finding none, he stepped closer, leaning down and running his fingers through your hair as he kissed you, your Intent disarming any doubts he’d had as you rose to meet him.

Maybe some humans believed he belonged way down below, but _you_ believed he belonged right here, with you.

And he couldn't agree more.

“lead the way, little rabbit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh Ohhhhh they're gonna git biizaaayyyy!  
> I was considering trying to hook them up in the same chapter as in Fight Me! but it seemed so far off, and it was really about time. I'm really excited to write about their love-making, since I see it as a lot more intimate than I think either of them will expect, lots of exploring and learning and slow kisses and aaaahhhhhh my body is so ready!
> 
> The song is Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless, and it's AWESOME. Please give it a listen!


	30. *Don't Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're ready to give yourself to Rus, and he's ready to give back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smuuuuuuut  
> This chapter is pure smut, skip it if that isn't your thing. I'm not bumping it up to explicit but rather marking smut chapters with an (*) so everyone knows. At this point I'm not entirely sure how much smut will be in it so I don't want to push the focus away from the story with a rating change. I might change it later if it gets a lot smuttier.  
> Smut warnings in end notes to avoid spoilers

He was so gentle, you thought idly, what little thoughts you could muster with the way he was kissing you.

You’d noticed the first time you’d met him, there was something so soft and welcoming about him, despite being built for terror. Your dad had always said you had a habit of seeing people as they are, not how they appear to be, at least at first glance. First glance at Camden had shown you an oily businessman, but you’d let his charm overtake you--

\--with Papyrus, you’d seen through his scary looks and reputation, and even though you weren’t unafraid by any means, you’d seen how hurt he was at his core. Vulnerable. Just like you. And even when he got on your nerves in the beginning, he had never laid a hand on you that could be described as anything but gentle.

You helped him take your hood off, watching with amusement as he hung it neatly in your closet, as if he hadn’t been doing positively illegal things with his tongue to yours just now. He smirked at you, and you blushed and dropped your gaze, embarrassed as you sat on the bed up by the pillows and waited.

You didn’t have to wait long, it seemed, because he crawled into the bed, right between your legs, and picked up where he left off, and you were more than happy to lay back beneath him, his tongue taking your breath away with startling swiftness. He made a satisfied noise against your lips, and your lust-hazed mind could only think of how to please him--where should you put your hands? Where would a skeleton's sensitive spots be? From the previous short but sweet makeout sessions you'd had, you had a fairly decent starting point, but it was still untested waters.

“don't think so hard, little rabbit,” he purred, adjusting to sit up and pulling you into his lap and mostly on top of him, his hands wandering from your hips to the curve of your ass and making you squeak in surprise.

You were far from a virgin, but he made everything feel totally different and new, like he was invested in making you comfortable and happy instead of just looking to get off.

You let out a surprised moan against his teeth as he drew a hand up your back so gently it made you shudder. He chuckled, repeating the movement, and you buried your rapidly reddening face in his shirt as the tingle of pleasure went down your spine.

“oh, darlin’, if you think that's good, i can't wait t'show ya what else i've got in store for you,” he growled in your ear, both hands tracing your spine, your hips, the crease of your thighs. You could feel a little extra something beginning to press up against your clothed cunt through his pants, and you only clutched him tighter as he gently kissed your neck and shoulder.

“Wait, I…” you hummed and pressed closer. “I think I have condoms in the bathroom.”

“if you want, but i can't get you pregnant,” he mumbled against your neck, drawing fingertips slowly up your sides. “not like this, anyway.”

“Really?” You asked, pulling back to look at him.

He only smiled and nodded, and you could tell he was being honest. “really. monsters have heat cycles, an’ mine's not for a while. besides, it requires a lotta magic, so your heart has t'be in it--y'gotta be ready for kids for magic to make one. an’ no std's, either, can't get those. but we can use something if you're unsure?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. I trust you. If you say we don't need it then we don't.”

And you truly felt he wasn't lying to you. Camden's words had always been undercut with an insult or a twist, but Papyrus had never been anything but honest with you and you were comfortable accepting what he said. You knew precious little about monsters, but he'd never used that against you before.

He returned to kissing your neck, your collarbone, lingering on the scar where you'd been shot for an extra moment, as if thanking the universe silently for sending you to him. The sentiment was there and it made you tingle, feeling adoration in his touch.

“L-let's take care of that,” you huffed, rocking insistently against his eager magic and making him hum against your skin.

“you sure you wanna skip to the big finish?” He asked, voice a deep baritone that made you fluster immediately. “i've got quite the show planned.”

“O...okay,” you sighed as his fingers deftly unhooked your bra with one snap.

“tell me the moment it’s too much,” he breathed, hands smoothing under the wire of your bra, his thumbs gently brushing just beneath your breasts cautiously.

“It’s not,” you insisted. “Please, Rus. I need this. I need you.”

“you’ve got me,” he promised, kissing you and muffling a moan against your lips as you pushed back.

For a few moments you were lost in the kiss, both breathing heavy and pressing against each other, and it was as if neither of you had been touched in your lives. Every kiss, every touch, every tiny moan or desperate shudder felt like heaven.

His hands made quick work of your shirt and bra, slinging them haphazardly somewhere before rolling you over, his warm mouth burning a trail of passion down your jaw, your neck, your chest, and finally your breast, sharp teeth grazing sensitive skin as he tugged on your yoga pants. You gasped and rolled your hips back to let him pull them off, and the moment you started to think he was far too clothed he leaned back, pulling his shirt off by tugging at the back of the collar.

Lord have mercy, that was illegally hot. Especially when his gaze was positively  _ hungry _ once the fabric fell away to join your own shirt on the floor.

Your hands hesitated, hovering over his ribs, until he leaned forward to push his bones into your hands.

“go on,” he purred. “there’s no part of my body that’s off-limits to you, darlin’.”

“Nothing at all?” You asked, skeptical.

He leaned closer, until his teeth were very nearly kissing you.

“nothing at all.” His eyelights burned with sincerity, and somehow you just knew he wasn't lying.

Your hands brushed over scarred bone, curiously exploring without ever taking your eyes off those amethyst eyelights.

He was unlike anyone you had ever been with, unlike anything you'd ever seen, thick, sturdy ribs that seemed too few for a human but somehow just right for him. Where you expected your hand to fall through, you noticed the curious sensation of something solid that you had vaguely noted during hugs and cuddles before.

You glanced down, splaying a hand over the invisible abdomen, and he chuckled, sitting back on his knees.

You gasped as the invisible body faded into view, a vibrant, eggplant purple starting at the bottom of his ribs and peeking out between them. It disappeared into his pants around his pelvis as he hooked his thumb in one belt loop, as if he were posing for GQ.

Your hands were all over it instantly, and he watched with a smile as you explored this new information.

It wasn't long before you were kissing again, and he pulled you on top, and he was kicking off his jeans haphazardly in an attempt to do it without removing his hands from your body. You muffled a laugh at his fumbling before using your feet to help kick them the rest of the way off.

And then your hands were trailing down his bones and summoned health-class-waiting-to-happen, and he groaned as you traced the bulge in his underwear with a look of intrigue, excitement, and healthy fear, in that order.

“i'm pretty big, i should warn you. even for monsters.” He watched your face closely, about to suggest you take it slow tonight and end it with heavy petting, maybe use some toys to build you up. That had been the most effective option with some of his partners.

But you surprised him with a bold smirk and a flash of something defiant in your eyes.

You pulled his underwear down quickly and watched in delight as his cock sprung to attention the moment it was free. Completely unperturbed by his size other than a manic glee in your eyes…

...for once, he didn't see a shred of nervousness in your eyes.

Ignoring the new appendage for the time being, you happily clambered into his lap, settling with his cock trapped between the two of you as you gave him a kiss that bordered on worship, hands gentle on his battered skull as he lapped up the nectar that was your affection. He got the hint that thinking was unnecessary from this point, automatically wrapping one arm around your waist, the other supporting him slightly as he enjoyed the taste of your lips, the softness of your skin against his bone and summoned flesh.

He simply sat back and enjoyed it, in no rush to get this over with. The dark, howling night was far away outside the windows, behind a locked door and all its dangers with it.

God, if he hadn't caught you. No, he wouldn't think about it. You trusted him and he followed through, you make a hell of a team even if it's a haphazard one. Fate had a sense of humor, smashing the two of you together, but the more he kissed and touched you, the more he realized there was a side of you he had yet to see, and while he'd have to explore why your confidence only comes with sexual touch, for right now he didn't say anything.

For right now, he would let it be, because the sounds you made when his fingers dipped between you to test your wetness were positively sinful, and intoxicating. You were quivering and gasping and it was music to him, harmonious and beautiful.

“beautiful,” he purred against your cheek as your ass rose to give his hand better access to your wet cunt. “so beautiful. don't hide those noises, darlin’, i wanna hear you.”

You struggled to obey, embarrassed by the noises escaping your lips, but his fingers only pressed deeper, slower, curling inside you easily as you practically climbed him to give him a better angle, and then his mouth and other hand were kissing and caressing your breasts, and you hardly had time to feel self-conscious before he was spreading your cunt with two strong fingers, making your knees weak as he stretched you with the tingle of magic.

“R-Rus,” you panted, and he hummed happily in response, his face buried between your breasts. He cracked one socket open in a heart-stopping, sexy half-lidded gaze, accompanied by an unfairly tempting smirk.

Both hands found their way to your thighs, supporting you as you hovered over his cock, lining up and preparing, and his teeth against the delicate skin of your neck was more than enough encouragement to slide your hands between your legs, guiding his thick head past your lips.

His hands on your ass were your guide in return, and he basked in your little mewls and moans as you struggled to take all of him, his piercings along the bottom of his shaft causing a sharp gasp of pleasure whenever they squeezed inside your tight heat.

His eyes were closed, enjoying every noise, every touch, every tiny twitch of your body as you clung to him, and when you had finally settled in his lap, you were a mess of quivering and surprised moans, and he gave you a moment to adjust.

Then it was quiet but for soft groans shared between lovers, and he laid you against the blankets so he could kiss you all over as he rolled his hips slowly, and the feeling of genuine affection was almost too much for you both.

“you feel so good,” he sighed, shuddering as he sheathed himself in you once more, and you only moaned and arched your back, hands balled in the sheets above your head to prevent from covering your mouth and muffling those delicious noises.

Every touch was deliberate, every kiss a work of art, every thrust in time to a song you didn't know, but you felt your heart beating in time.

You called his name, and he sighed yours against your skin, over and over and over.

You gasped as something took hold of you, his magic buried deep inside you and buzzing against your heat, and for a long moment all you could feel was pleasure, white-hot pleasure as you gripped his arms with shaking fingers, crying out.

_ "fuck," _ he groaned quietly, pressing as deep as he could go as you spasmed around his cock, feeling his own release dangerously close. 

A part of him wanted so badly to sink his teeth into your soft skin, to Mark you forever as his, to fill you so full of his magic that you couldn't even blink without him knowing. His marrow was running hot in his bones, LV knocking insistently at the door, telling him all sorts of awful things--lock you away, collar you, Mark you, breed you, make you his--

But the soft noise you made as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck brought him back to you in a snap, and he dismissed every thought but one:

_ so, so beautiful. _

You moaned and wriggled, overstimulated and confused, your eyes clouded with lust and skin flushed with desire.

"Rus!" You gasped as he hilted and held, your post-orgasmic sensitivity making you whimper with every pulse as he came inside you, the rush of magic flooding you with warmth from toe to tip, and then he was kissing you.

And for once in your life, you were sad it was over. You sighed against his mouth, not willing to give up the feeling of him inside you just yet, legs wrapped around his pelvis.

It was several minutes of heavy breathing and soft kisses before either of you moved, and to your surprise he only thrusted slowly once more, still erect.

"Oh!" You gasped, gripping him hard in surprise. He stopped instantly, looking at you in concern. He withdrew, and you felt so empty immediately the moment his cock slipped out.

"are you okay? should we stop?"

"No! I mean, yes, er…" you chuckled and let your head fall back against the pillows. "I, uhm, didn't expect a, uh, second round. Especially so soon."

"oh," his eyelights dilated slightly in understanding. "right. humans need a break, right? sorry, i forgot, i don't have a whatever those are called."

"Refractory period?"

"yes. that thing," he chuckled, giving you a finger gun with one hand and a wink. You giggled, and then stopped, stifling it with your hand.

You went in for another kiss, but--

“wait,” he said softly, one hand stopping your shoulder. “why did you hide your laugh?”

Confused, you shrugged. “Isn't it rude to laugh at your partner during sex?”

That made  _ him _ laugh, dropping his head to touch your forehead to his. Both hands came up to your hair and cradled your face affectionately as he looked down at you. “i  _ love  _ your laugh. stars, i'd pay 1000g to have you laugh at me, _without_ sex, and i'd probably still get off later. maybe i'm weird, but sex is  _ supposed  _ to be fun.”

“Well, I've had my fair share of sex and I can definitely say fun would not be my first adjective I'd use to describe it.” You held up a hand and made a so-so sign.

“you feel that way about me?” He asked. It wasn't an accusation or even disappointment--just a question.

“...No. You're different. The monster thing, obviously, but more than that.” You felt yourself flush as your hand moved down to your sore, pleased slit, gently feeling how slick you were, his cum leaking out. "I, uhm, I've never cum like that, not during sex. Only on my own."

"well that's a damn shame, because you--" He kissed you, and you squeaked. "--look so good when you cum that it should be fucking illegal. i wanna make you cum all damn night if it means i get to watch it happen."

"Yeah, well, you're the first," you huffed, blushing madly. "Just...don't make promises you can't keep."

"did you just insinuate i can't fuck you all night? or continue to make y'cum?" He purred in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "or was that an invitation to try?"

"W-well," you stammered, fingers brushing gently down his arms. "I don't know about you, but I've only got one thing I have to do tomorrow."

He chuckled. "oh yeah? an' what's that?"

There's that smirk. Fuck, he's so weak for that smirk, and apparently you were figuring that out.

"You, obviously."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut: first time with a new partner, ecto dick, big donger, gentle sex, p in v, making love
> 
> Even though the L-word hasn't been used yet I feel it still counts as making love. I had fun making this! Patrons got to view a WIP about a week early!


	31. Monster 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're going to be sleeping with a monster, Rus wants to make sure you understand a few things. He'll never, ever hurt you on purpose, and he needs you to know it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my previous tumblr post about [a/b/k-multi designations! ](https://msmkcreates.tumblr.com/post/176500712748/you-tagged-your-latest-chapter-of-fight-me-with)

Angry honking from the bathroom was the only thing that finally got him to stir. You both had forgotten to release Calvin from the bathroom, which was fine since he likely had slept most of the night, but right about now he was probably wanting to come out and play with Hobbes.

A lazy flick of his wrist, and the door to the bathroom opened. The wet slapping of webbed feet on tile and the sound of ruffling feathers filled the hall outside the bedroom and he chuckled, adjusting you slightly so he could roll more comfortably onto one arm. 

From here your faces were practically pressed against each other, and he was able to just bask in the cuddles, gazing at you from beneath your sanctuary of shared sheets and blankets. You looked so cute, pressed up against him, touching him as much as physically possible without actually being inside his ribcage. You were close, he noted, your hands wrapped around his bottom ribs.

He took satisfaction in the slight lavender glow that only he could see you had. The visible glow would fade in a few hours, but there would be no mistake to any monster who saw you today knew exactly who they would be messing with if they fucked with you.

He hummed and drew sharp fingertips gently down your spine, and to his absolute delight you shivered and stretched slightly, and then your gorgeous hazel eyes were cracking open blearily.

"g'mornin'," he mumbled, feeling a stupid amount of affection for your adorable sleepy face.

You blinked slowly, so slowly he thought maybe you'd fallen asleep again, and then you smiled a sleepy, happy smile that he wanted a thousand pictures of so he could keep it burned into his mind.

"Mornin'," you mumbled back, moving your hand slowly from inside his ribcage and instead resting one on his sternum delicately. "You stayed the whole night."

"yeah," he chuckled, brushing off the urge to ask why that surprised you. He had a pretty good idea why. "couldn't possibly leave. i had t'make sure it wasn't a dream."

You blushed and giggled, and he kissed you softly, and so it went for another lazy hour, exchanging kisses and low murmurs, hiding from the morning light beneath the covers.

“Could you, uhm...turn that way?” You asked finally, a little sheepish.

He raised a browbone at you, but obediently rolled over. He listened to you getting up, resisting the urge to turn and look. He heard the shuffle of clothes, the creak of the closet door--you were getting dressed.

"i’ve already seen you naked,” he pointed out, more playful than anything. Your nervous laugh made his soul ache. “...i think you’re gorgeous, you know.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve only seen me in the dark,” you mumbled, before coming around to his side of the bed in jeans and his shirt.

He chuckled, sitting up and using the huge shirt as a lead to pull you closer, closer, closer until you dropped onto the bed with him again, and he was kissing you as you crawled into his lap eagerly. It was a long moment before he broke the kiss, thumbs brushing your hips through the fabric of his t-shirt.

“and what am i supposed to wear, hm?”

“Absolutely nothing if I have my say,” you teased, drawing your hands down his ribs ever-so-gently. He hummed in delight, your touch buzzing so nicely.

“only if we can match,” he purred, and enjoyed the stutter he created.

“H-here,” you stammered, shoving his tank top at him and climbing off his lap. He shrugged and got dressed, all with your back to him as you stared intently at the bedroom door.

“you, my darlin’, are one silly rabbit,” he said, ruffling his hair as he passed you.

Hobbes skittered between your legs as you both exited the room, giving chase to Calvin who squawked indignantly as he flew past you, making you, heh,  _ duck. _ Papyrus only spared them a chuckle before moving to inspect your cupboards and fridge, exactly like you thought he would.

“well, i was gonna get more in-depth about monster sex over breakfast, but…” He trailed off, giving you a wry smirk. “looks like we need to go to the market first?”

“In my defense, it’s been two months,” you said, holding your hands up in surrender.

“that’s true. c’mon, let’s go before it gets ungodly hot.”

* * *

Papyrus watched you as you talked to the people at the booths, picking fresh ingredients and being completely oblivious to how extra nice everyone was being to you today.

Not only did you basically scream "Papyrus Osseus' mate, back off!" but there were already stories circulating about your ingenious way of saving the day back at Muffet's last night. Seems everyone had an elaborate way to describe the Maiden From the Sky as she "jumped into battle fierce and fearless".

It was cute, actually.

He was happy to see you happy, especially around buying groceries, even though he put most of it in the cart while you weren't looking.

He fingered the silver coin in his pocket, still so unsure. Should he give this enchantment to you? It would make him feel better, but is that overbearing? It feels creepy, even though a year ago it would have been second nature, sticking a tracker on you. In fact, he wouldn't have bothered telling you, but now he can't even _think_ about putting it on you blind.

He just...last night had been amazing, and this morning even better, but what he didn't tell you was he'd kept tossing with nightmares of that asshole Camden coming back and forcing you away from him. He'd been suspiciously quiet for an abuser, letting you be with Papyrus without so much as sending a single text to question you.

He had lived long enough in this world to know that good things don't just fall into his lap like this. The other shoe would have to drop sometime.

But for now he pushed the fear away, smiling gently at you as you padded over, two I-Screams in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other.

"That cat guy basically made me take these," you mumbled, gesturing with the frozen treats. "I've never met him but he sure knew me."

"that's BP. he's ok." Papyrus took the bag of groceries and one of the I-Screams. "let me warn you--"

You jumped as the treat screeched as you took a bite, and he chuckled once he realized you were only mildly startled.

"first of all, what kind of depraved being bites ice cream?" Papyrus teased. "y'didn't even lick it first."

You frowned at him, and by the stars, it was so cute. "Well, I didn't know it would feel pain…"

"it's just a gimmick. nothing crazy here except a tiny bit of magic t'keep it cold." He pointedly licked his, and it hissed out a quiet, teakettle scream. "you only know it's summer when there's a ton of random screaming."

"I thought that was just Tuesdays down there?" You asked, tilting your head with a smirk.

"tuesday through saturday, and twice on sundays."

"What about Monday?"

"i don't acknowledge mondays," he said, comically serious. He was rewarded with that cute laugh, hidden slightly by your I-Scream. He finished his with a flourish--they were tiny-human sized, after all. "are we all done here?"

"Mmm...there's one more thing I wanted."

"yeah? what's that?"

You blushed as you slid your hand into his, a shy smile on your face as you looked up at him. "There. Now we can go."

He covered his face with his other hand, the grocery bag sliding up to his elbow as he struggled to contain his blush. "shit. you are way too cute, it should be illegal."

"Aww, would you at least visit me if I went to prison?"

He chuckled, pulling you slightly away from the crowd to kiss your cheek and purr in your ear. "depends. does this prison allow conjugal visits?"

"I sure hope so," you breathed, blushing deeply as you looked away slightly.

What he wouldn't give to just shove you in the alley and--

"as much as i would love to make every visit with you conjugal, i'm sure the responsible thing to do is have the monster sex talk."

"The Pheonixes and the bees, oh dear," you chuckled, squeezing his hand. "If you insist. I have a comfy couch and a coffee table, and a bed for demonstrations."

He snorted, bringing your hand up to kiss it. "who are you and what have you done with hazel?"

You smiled, but he caught that it didn't reach your eyes, a sort of apologetic smile.

He lets go of your hand momentarily to brush your hair back, pulling you gently into an embrace by the back of the neck. "hey, don't. i like it when you're playful. i like ya all the time, okay?"

"...Even when I'm jumping off the roof?"

He chuckled. "only if i'm there t'catch you."

You hummed and returned his embrace, nuzzling your face into his soft tank top. His shirt was soft and light against your skin, and wearing it helped ground you and put faith behind his words.

When you opened your eyes again you were surprised to see you were both standing in the middle of your kitchen--you didn't even feel the magic of the shortcut that time.

Papyrus was quick to help you put away the groceries he'd been sending back here for you throughout the morning, and when that was done he made some pancakes. You lingered in the tiny kitchen, feeling a little useless...but cooking is a rabbit hole, and you've fallen down it before, so in the end you just let him do it. No sense in fattening yourself up because you want to try and make new and more complicated things.

"That's talent, right there," you mused, looking at the skull-shaped pancakes.

"years of practice. it was the only thing sans would eat when we were little and, well, dad wasn't gonna fuckin' make them."

There's a bitterness to his tone even as he ruffles your hair affectionately.

You choose not to pry.

"So. Monster sex. Clearly, I got the crash course--" you giggled as he wagged his brow-bones. "--so what am I missing?"

"hmm...well, i mentioned heat last night, right?" You nodded and he tapped his fork to his teeth, looking at you and thinking. "heat is sort of a general term, not exactly what happens to me. as double-alpha--oh, hold on, a double-alpha is an alpha who…"

He pauses, clearly hung up on where to start. He chuckles and shakes his head.

"from the top, i guess. y'know how humans have blood types and stuff?"

"Yeah, I'm O negative, I can give blood to everyone," you said, nodding.

"right. monsters don't have that, obviously--our blood's jus' magic. so we go by what we call the a/b/k-multi designation."

"ABCD what now?"

That earned a chuckle. "a/b/k-multi. It's three or four tags that describe your magic levels, heat type, gender and sexual preference. like, uh, blood types and lgbt stuff all in one."

"Oh. That sounds convenient," you said, picking at your pancakes. His hand stilled yours to keep your from cutting it any smaller than you were, a silent reminder. "Uh, to know all that with one title?"

"mhmm. the first tag in your designation is a straight assessment of ability--are you able to use magic, or not? alpha if you are, beta if you aren't. mostly humans are betas, but some--" He leaned in and nuzzled your hair. "--are mages, and that makes them an alpha. like you."

You snorted in disbelief. You've never been alpha-anything.

"the second tag is raw power, and that determines your heat behaviors--and how you breed." He paused, searching for discomfort in your face at the topic of breeding. But you seemed open enough, so he continued. "alphas are rare, but powerful. got a lotta magic, a lotta control, and a need to assert dominance. betas aren't as powerful, but they're plentiful. there's kappas, too, basically no sexual drive whatsoever--no heat, no breeding, usually good to have around to take care of things because they don't go crazy in mating season. most human mages are betas, unrealized potential or lack of magic due to, y'know, fleshy bits. but it's not easy to tell if a human is a alpha-beta. or...any kind of a/b/k. the lack of magic bodies makes it difficult."

"Which one are you?" You asked, cocking your head.

He smirked at you, sliding an arm around your shoulders as he leaned back on the couch, empty plate abandoned on the coffee table. "hmmm. good question. what do you think?"

"Alpha-alpha?" You asked, and he nodded. "I knew it! Everyone talks about you like you're on a completely different level. You're special."

"eh. i'm alright." He shrugged, a little blush for the praise. "but yeah...jus' me, sans, an' asgore, actually. the only double-a's."

"Really? That rare?"

"used to be more, but…"

But the underground was a small place, and they're territorial as fuck. His dad had been one, as well, and if Sans and him weren't his own offspring he's certain they would have been dead before they were out of stripes, were he ever sober enough to fight them. AA's fight it out until one secedes or dies, and Snowdin was lucky enough to have three of them in the same goddamn house.

"...Anyway, you said these affect your behaviors…?"

A change of subject. Bless you.

"mmm. alphas go into a special kind of heat, called a rut, once or twice a year, depending on if they're mated or not…" He steals a glance at you, and you blush at the suggestion that he views you as his mate. "betas, when left alone, generally go into heat once a year, maybe once every two years. or when an omega does."

"A what?"

"an omega, shoot, forgot that one. those are the last heat type, pretty rare for...other reasons." Which is why he and his brother are so hellbent on dismantling sex trafficking amongst monsters and humans alike. "they go into heat when conditions for breeding and rearing children are right, or not at all. think of them, like...perfect parents. their magic is just  _ made _ to make strong children, and their instincts are sharp as a tack. when an omega goes into heat, they're either getting pregnant or cleaning every house in a two mile radius and adopting seventeen stray animals."

"Sounds exhausting," you chuckled. "So every now and then you go into heat, and you have really strong magic? That's what it tells me?"

"there's also designations for gender and sexual preference. my gender is upsilon, which means i'm a monster who can form either male or female parts, even if I prefer male. there's designations for monster unhappy with their parts or totally happy with their parts, too, but i guess i'm technically non-binary." He winked at your surprised face. "hmm? are you maybe into girls a little, darlin'?"

"Shut up," you squeaked, blushing. "The last designation?"

"sexual orientation. mine's epsilon--"

"I thought that was your gender?"

He chuckled. "upsilon is gender. epsilon with an e is for sexuality. basically means no preference, both, pan, etcetera."

"And that's that? Just descriptors?"

"well, at this point it becomes like...horoscopes." He thinks for a moment. "alphas are generally aggressive and driven. double-a's are also capable of a wider range of attacks and magic types, hence why i can heal without a green soul. think of us like boss monsters in a video game, and the alpha-betas are the usual monsters, with double-betas anand kappa being npcs."

"Okay, I think I follow. So you can't get me pregnant without you being in heat--er, a rut? Wait, what's the difference?"

His eyelights dilated and he looked like he might bolt. Instead, he leaned forward, taking both your hands in his and looking you in the eye. "...okay. this is the scary part. before i say more, i want you to know that in my right mind i would never, ever hurt you."

Your face grew soft and you squeezed his hands. "Of course, Rus. I know that."

He nodded, keeping his stare set on your joined hands. "heats are usually manageable with a few supplements, some time off work, and sleep. it's easy for omegas and betas to get through their heats alone."

You felt a creeping feeling of worry at the wording, there. "And a rut...is different?"

"without a partner, a rut could kill a monster," he said softly. "our magic throws all it has into the idea of breeding. even though it usually won't work without a bond, it will wrack our bodies 'til we find a mate, and then we won't let them go until it's over...whether that means done, pregnant, or dead."

Your eyes went wide, and he spied fear. As much as it made his soul cry out, it was good you were afraid. It would keep you from trying to help him.

"it's violent and incredibly dangerous. especially with my LV, i...it's nearly impossible for me to stay lucid." He squeezed your hands, and you squeezed back, a silent okay to keep going. "if i suffer it alone, it's likely i'll tear myself apart. if i have a partner...they have to be prepared to take a  _ severe  _ beating."

"O...okay," you squeaked. "I'm sure I could--"

"absolutely not," he said sternly, but it softened quickly. He dropped your hands in favor of cradling your face. "humans aren't like monsters. your bruises don't go away after a good night's rest. i won't even be able to tell it's you, and the way we're involved, and th'fact you're a mage...there's a good chance i would breed you. forcibly."

"...Oh." It was so quiet, and it hurt him to hear the very real fear.

"do you understand why i can't let that happen?" He cooed, thumbs brushing your cheeks as you nodded slightly.

"But...what  _ will _ you do?" You asked, hands finding his arms to grip him as if he might slip away. "You can't go through it alone, right? You...you'd need someone…"

He did  _ not  _ want to talk about this. God, this was hard. He sighed and rubbed his face.

"...well, i used t'just...hook up with muffet?" Instantly your face dropped, a mixture of understanding and hurt and over thinking-- "but! i can figure something else out. i've already got undyne on it to try an' make somethin' strong enough to sedate me the whole time, and there's places i can go to...be contained."

"What? Tie you up and taser you, like an animal?" You huffed, offended  _ for  _ him. It was better than thinking he'd cheat on you. "Like a wild beast of some sort?"

If only you knew how accurate that description was…

"look, there's a few months still until then. we'll work it out, ok? but i'm gonna need you to accept whatever the solution is, an'stay far the fuck away from me when i'm in my rut. can you do that?"

You made a face like you really didn't want to. "...Fine. I guess I can do that."

"remember that promise about me not answering to my name?" He pressed, and you nodded, and he sighed. The hard part's over. "good. good. okay. you okay?"

"I'm fine, are  _ you _ okay?" You pressed back, raising a brow. 

"...it's hard to admit to people you care about that there's things...things out of my control that could cause me to hurt you." He smirked a little bit, the mischievous sparkle a little duller than usual. "kinda figured you'd nope out for a moment there."

"What? It's your biology, Rus, it isn't your fault," you snorted. "Yeah, it's kinda scary and a little gross and weird, but so is human reproduction. And we met with me literally spilling blood all over you, so...probably at least even."

"you're too good for me, you know that?"

You scoffed, but accepted his kiss, and even though you were a little worried about this...rut thing...you know he's doing everything he can to keep this thing you have safe, sane, and consensual.

You trust him.

A honk and a hiss, and you both are startled from your surprisingly deep kiss by Hobbes skittering over the back of the couch, changing direction like a drag racer as Calvin followed shortly, all fluffed feathers and spite as he hunted Hobbes across the carpet.

It isn't long before you're both laughing, hunting down your pets and taking sides in the argument you imagine they're having. Clearly Hobbes did nothing wrong, argues Papyrus, with the logic that he's wearing a little bell so you would have heard him. But of course, you counter that Calvin is still wet, which means he must have been in the bathroom mere moments ago.

The argument ends with more laughter and no resolution, Papyrus' rut the farthest thing from your mind, and you drag him back to the couch to finally,  _ finally _ get to that Netflix you've been trying to do for the last two days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Being honest can be hard.


	32. *The Rocky Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is a fickle thing, and sometimes Rus needs a reminder that it isn't just him that has to shoulder the burden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for reference to past child abuse, hard drugs and past drug abuse mentioned. I'll probably add it to the tags at the top for reasons.
> 
> Smut: p in v, needy sex, making love, fingering, slight praise kink
> 
> Have some fluff and smut!

“Hazel, dearie, could you take this to table three?”

“Sure thing,” you said cheerfully, stowing your bag behind the bar and retrieving the tray from Muffet. “Hey, have you seen Papyrus tonight?”

“If you’re here, he can’t be far behind,” Muffet chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at her non-answer. You hadn’t seen much of Papyrus the last couple of days, other than grabbing coffee together in the mornings at his insistence--you gather that it takes a lot of effort for him to allow you out of his sight, and especially to sleep without him, but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that he’s struggling with some lingering issues regarding attachment and possibly codependency. You might know a thing or two about that, after all. But morning coffee dates were the perfect remedy--if you meet up somewhere, or if he comes to bring it to you, either way it’s a little reminder for both of you that even when things get busy, the attraction and intention is still there.

Surprisingly, you’ve been able to sleep well because of it. You thought you’d get lonely fairly quickly, but the reassurance that you’d see him in the morning was enough to entice you to bed instead of worrying. And he’s said that your ‘Good morning, taking my meds!’ texts have been heavensent, so maybe there’s something to this normal-dating-thing.

But today he’d had to skip the coffee date, in order to go to his therapy appointment. It had been hard to sleep on that, but you consoled yourself with the fact that you’d see him when you went into work. You reminded yourself it’s normal for couples to sometimes not see each other, and that dates get cancelled occasionally--a deep breath, and you turned to table three with a smile.

“Looks like voodoo fries and a harvest apple salad?” You asked when you got there, setting the tray down.

The two rabbit monsters informed you which was which, and it wasn’t until the stroller next to the table started producing noises that you recognized the lady rabbit.

“Oh! You’re Rus’ friend from the froyo shop!” You said as she reached into the pram to shush the noises.

“I am!” She smiled brightly up at you. “And you, my dear, are my hero.”

You blinked, taken aback as the male rabbit leaned forward to listen in. “I...I am?”

“Oh, yes! Why, if you hadn’t told me about the shared souls, we might have lost one of our babies. Look, see? All three.” She pushed the pram slightly to show you the tiny baby bunnies snuggling into each other--two in blue striped pajamas and one in pink, with a little bow. "I told Asgore who tipped me off, and he shared your name with me! I hope you don't mind, we named her Hazel."

"Aww," you sighed, unsure how else to respond. "You really didn't have to do that. Any empath could have told you."

"But they didn't," her husband said. "You did. And if you hadn't happened by that night we might be grieving instead of celebrating."

You blushed as you chatted a few more minutes, feeling that warm-fuzzy-helped-someone feeling you used to get when you properly protected a customer for the gang. It certainly felt nice.

But eventually you had to tear yourself away, busying yourself with your job. It was Friday, and fairly busy, and you had no choice but to get to it.

It was a couple hours before you realized that Papyrus still wasn't there. Even stranger was he hadn't even texted you. You tried to keep busy and not worry, but...well, meds can only do so much, and by the time the end of your shift rolled around you couldn't help but be a total nervous wreck. You'd messaged him on your break and he hadn't even read it!

That was...out of character. He's usually very careful about not leaving you hanging because he knows how worried you can get. Or maybe you're overreacting and people don't worry this much in a normal relationship? 

Great, now you're worried he's avoiding you and finds you annoying. Honestly, you're mostly wondering what took him so long. You should probably head home and start trying to bury your sorrow in Netflix.

...but even though you were fairly convinced he hated you now, you're still worried.

"Before you go dearie--" Muffet placed a small basket on the table, apparently a to-go order. "--I've never seen Papyrus miss a Friday special. Be a love and take this to his place, would you? Do you mind?"

An angel. You have no idea if she knew your struggle but damn, you needed someone to give you a reason to check on him (though being his special someone was probably reason enough if you were honest) and here she was, swooping in to save the day.

"Yeah, I can do that! Thanks, Muff!"

"Take care of that foolish monster," she tutted. "He tends to withdraw with reckless abandon."

You smiled softly at her. "Yeah, I will. Thanks again. Good night!"

* * *

Well, his lights were on as you walked up the steps. Maybe he just hadn't seen your messages? (Or maybe he's got some other girl over, and he's done with you, said the mean voice in your head)

You knocked. No answer. You craned to see through the broken blinds, but couldn't see much inside but for the TV being on, too low to hear. The couch was empty.

You raised your hand to knock again, and before you could, you heard the lock click and the safety chain sliding, and it cracked open to reveal Papyrus, who seemed genuinely surprised to see you.

He opened the door the rest of the way, and you could see he looked awful. He had bags beneath his sockets, and though he smiled at you it didn't quite sparkle in his sockets like usual.

"hey, darlin', what're y'doin' here?" He asked, closing the door behind you.

"Just checking on my favorite skeleton," you said, handing him the basket. He stared at it in his hands for a moment.

Suddenly his whole face changed, and he looked incredibly guilty.

"i never texted you back." It was a statement, not a question. "...what...time is it?"

"About 2am," you said with a shrug. His eyelights dilated, and he let out a hiss of displeasure as he ran his free hand over his skull.

"shit. shit! that late?" He turned and put the basket down, scratching his head.

"Well, it's, you know, it's oka--" You squeaked as he pulled you close, up into his arms, and you didn't hesitate to hug him back, his fingers threading in your hair as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck.

"m'sorry, shit...you must have been...i'm sorry, darlin'. it was just…a really weird day."

You hummed, your trepidation and fears melting away as he held you, settling in his lap easily as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I can see that. Are you okay?" You asked, leaning back and taking his skull between your hands, examining his tired face.

"m'fine," he insisted.

"Rus, you didn't know what time it was."

"s'not that unusual."

"You didn't answer my text or come to Muffet's tonight, even though you knew I was working."

He thought about that, and chuckled. "yeah. okay. that was weird."

"So what's going on? You're usually so put-together."

"see, that right there is what proves that you only met me recently," he snorted, kissing your forehead sweetly. "it's just a bad day, no big deal. s'better since you're here, though. thanks for checkin' on a lazybones like me."

You tried to smile, but you weren't sure it read as one. He's hiding something, and you don't want to pry...but the fact that you can make it better just by being there, it did make you feel a little bit better.

"Is it okay if I stay the night?" You asked. "I mean, if you need space I--"

"no, uh, i don't...i'd like it if you stayed," he said quickly. "if only to make it up to you for being AWOL all night."

"You sure? I don't want you to say yes just because you think you owe me or something. I mean I could deal with--"

"i want you here," he insisted. "y'know i do."

No, you don't know that. You were pretty certain he never wanted to see you again but you know that's a gross overreaction to a little radio silence. You must show your insecurities in your face because there's that guilty look again.

"...m'really sorry, princess," he sighed, leaning his forehead to yours. "i do want you here. i love bein' around you and being with ya, i shoulda...m'sorry i made you doubt that."

"Don't be sorry about my ridiculous insecurities," you said with a shrug. "I know it's...it isn't normal for me to think the worst just because you didn't text me back."

"it's also not normal for me to just drop off the face of th'earth either. s'okay, we're okay. right?"

You smiled softly at him, and he relaxed, a tension you hadn't even realized he was holding. "Of course we are."

"mmm...good. c'mere."

He pulled you in for a kiss, and you melted against him, eager to make up and even more so to make out. The only downside of your coffee dates is they usually didn't allow for much intimacy. Other than fooling around at your house yesterday morning, Papyrus and your schedules had conflicted too much to do anything.

He sighed against your lips, his head still swimming slightly. It was a gamble letting you stay with him in this condition, but having you here meant he was less likely to make a choice he regretted.

"hold on, hold on," he chuckled as your hands wandered, and you stopped. He shifted you from his lap, kissing you fiercely as he laid you back against the pillows, before retreating, angled towards the bathroom. "sorry, just...m'all gross from bein'a lazy lump all day. don't go anywhere, gorgeous~"

You were laughing when he disappeared into the bathroom, but the moment the door clicked shut behind him, his own smile disappeared and he was fumbling in his pockets.

Into the sink went the little bag, it's off-white contents spilling into the porcelain as he ran the water before he could change his mind.

"dammit," he muttered, running a shaky hand over his skull as he watched the heroin run down the sink. "the hell was i thinking?"

He turned away from the sight, parking it on the toilet for a moment as he stopped to collect himself.

His session had been  _ bad. _ Dr. Stephens had even cut it short halfway after bringing him down from a panic attack over some repressed memories that had resurfaced. He'd told him to go home and relax, try again next week free of charge, but all he could feel was the white-hot pricks of his father's bones digging into his, the hollow sound of bone on skull as he beat him silly for daring to ask about taking his baby brother to see a doctor for his cough.

He'd tried to nap, but horrible dreams kept him awake. He'd tried to text you, but he couldn't think of a way to tell you to stay away while he was unstable. He watched TV and played some piano, but nothing worked for very long.

Before he knew it, he was in his old haunts, exchanging money for a packet of poison he hadn't touched in over a year. They knew better than to talk, he knew they did, he just needed to not feel anything for a little while, he just needed to--

Fuck. He didn't even know. Maybe he wanted things to be simple. He'd been so good, he'd been doing everything right, didn't he have the right to fuck up a little bit? To put it all away and forget for a little while?

But then you'd shown up before he could use it, and he'd been so fucked up on his own trauma all day he hadn't even realized what time it was.

And the moment he saw you, the second he realized why you were there, how worried and anxious you must have been, worried he was hurt or didn't like you…

He reached over and turned the faucet higher, ensuring every last bit of the foul powder was gone. Seeing you was the reminder that he needed that that life was behind him, and he took a shuddering breath as he realized he almost undid an entire year's worth of progress, not only for him but his brother as well. The last thing anyone needed was a strung-out Papyrus on the warpath, all LV and fangs and repressed anger, only docile when he had the next hit, always looking for the next fix.

He didn't need to be that person anymore. He didn't need drugs, how could he be so stupid?

The only thing he could do was thank you with actions. He wavered between telling you, but he could worry about it in the morning. Right now he needed to be with you, without any bullshit to sour it.

He made sure it was all gone before splashing fresh water on his face, wrestling his t-shirt and tank top off and trading his jeans for some lounge pants.

He smirked as he noticed you'd taken the time to change out of your uniform. Normally he would be disappointed to see that skirt go away, but this time he was much more gratified to see you wearing nothing but one of the t-shirts he'd left lying around, lacy panties peeking out as you worked on one of your crossword puzzles.

"you have no idea how much i've been dying to see this again," he purred, sliding onto the bed, running his fingertips over your exposed legs. You hummed and fluttered your lashes up at him, and he was afraid his chest might actually explode into rainbows.

"Careful, you might find some of your shirts missing if you're too vocal about liking it," you teased, meeting his kiss gently with a sigh. His fingers moved deliberately over your skin, massaging your thighs, still sore from the long Friday night shift. "Oh, Rus...that's, mmm...that's nice…"

"y'sore, little rabbit?" He hummed, doubling back and pressing slower, targeting the muscle. He watched your face relax in tantalizing pleasure. "long night, huh? busy at muffet's?"

"Mmm...yeah," you admitted, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to kiss you, and he followed without hesitation, using his hands on your thighs to pull your hips to his, feeling the warmth of your heat.

He sighed when you ran your hands over bare ribs, brushing the inside of his spine with curiosity and letting out a pleased noise when he shuddered in return.

"mmm...darlin', if  _ that's  _ on the table then i've got plans," he mumbled against your lips.

"I was hoping it'd be on the bed, actually."

There was a pause, and a snort of laughter. Then he was pressing his skull to your shoulder and trying to hold in his hysterical laughter as you giggled along.

"oh, fuck, you're perfect. have i told you that?" He muttered against your neck, magic tingling against your throat as he kissed it. "on the bed does sound more comfortable."

Your giggle was cut short as he pressed a kiss to your lips, and you sighed, kissing him back so gently he thought he might go insane.

He needed this, so badly, but he's afraid. He's afraid of needing it, of having to call it quits because he got too close. He knows, logically, that he won't need to do that--healthy connections happen all the time, he's just paranoid.

"don't leave me tonight," he murmured against your skin, and you shuddered as his breath tickled over you, warm on your ear.

"I won't," you promised.

He took it. He moved his attention downward, pushing his shirt up your body until he could see you, all of you, and he dragged his fingertips gently across your skin, delighting in your sigh. He cupped your breasts and leaned in to surround himself with you, enjoying the softness and the scent of apple pie.

He wished he could properly explain what you mean to him. He wished he could tell you how you make him so much better.

Instead he slid your panties over your hips, slowly, lovingly. You help him, arching slightly as he ran his fingers between your legs. You squirm as he leans down, kissing your belly, then your hip, then the inside of your thighs.

"You don't have to do that," you said, almost too quiet. You were quivering, half in arousal and half in that sort of fear you get when you worry.

"noted. is it okay if i wanna?" He deliberately didn't move when he asked, letting his warm breath fan across your soaked slit.

"Yeah," you said, just as quiet.

"if you wanna say no, i won't be mad, darlin'," he purred, leaning his skull against your thigh and teasing with his fingers instead. "i promised i'd show y'what sex is supposed to be like, yeah? that includes not pushing you until you're uncomfortable."

"Just start with something else?" You asked, and he hummed and sunk two fingers past your folds, sitting up so he could watch you jolt and cover your blush.

"i can do that." You moaned into your hand and he brought his free hand up to coax you to drop yours. "so beautiful. d'ya like that?"

"Yes," you huffed, red in the face. You arched as he slid a third finger inside, stretching and priming you carefully.

His touch warmed you from the inside out, and by the time he withdrew you were panting, whining as his touch left you. You flushed as he licked his soaked fingers, a hunger in his eyelights as his other hand pushed his waistband down to free his cock.

"i missed this," he purred, pushing his cock to press against your folds, a soft friction, the tiniest relief. "fuck, you're perfect."

"You keep saying that," you chuckled.

He leaned down to kiss you, one hand guiding his shaft to line up, and his voice was silk and lace as he whispered in your ear. "s'because it's true. you're perfect, and i can't believe you're here with me. everything is better when you're here."

"That's my line," you whispered, and then he pressed into you, and you gasped and couldn't speak, the pleasant stretch of his cock silencing you.

Then it was kisses and moans, and his rhythm kept a medium pace. You were lost in the feeling of him, the gentle buzz of his soul as it called to you. Something had been so wrong before you came over, you could feel his anguish slipping away as he held you, felt his tension disappear with every thrust, and as much as you needed this, you feel like he needed it even more.

It didn't last long, bith too pent up, but it was long enough for you to cum, crying out in bliss and summoning his own release.

He only realized he'd bowed his head to your shoulder when your fingers slid across his skull, gently tracing the crack down the back to his cervical vertebrae and down to his shoulders, tracing lightly and making his bones tingle pleasantly.

"Better?" You muttered, lips almost kissing his skull with those words.

"you have no idea," he groaned in response, choosing to hold his softening magic inside you just a little longer. He wanted to prolong this bliss as much as he could. "oh, fuck, i needed that."

"Me, too," you hummed, tracing his bones with both hands now.

He planted a few clumsy kisses on your shoulder, before raising his head to kiss you properly. "don't move. lemme clean y'up."

You let him clean you up, indulging in the treatment without much protest. He could see you were tired--who wouldn't be, after working Friday at Muffet's and then coming here for him?

"tired, little rabbit?" He asked softly as he smoothed his shirt down your body, hands wandering to rub sore muscles.

"Mmm, a little," you admitted, peeking over at him with those gorgeous eyes that could make him so weak. "But I wanna stay up with you."

"you don't gotta do that," he cooed, squeezing you gently.

"But I want to," you said, dragging yourself to sit up. "Something's not right, yeah? Your session, maybe?"

He must have made a face, because you were quick to speak again.

"You don't have to tell me! But I can tell you need company. If you need me to chase away the bad dreams, I'm here."

With that, you leaned forward and settled against his chest, pulling him in for a hug, and his arms latched tightly around you for a strong hug.

You really were perfect. So good at telling when he needed something, what he needed. He reads body language and subtext, but you read raw emotions and turn them into pure kindness, and it hurts him to think he may have made you think he didn't want it.

"just lay with me? if sleep comes at least i'll know you're here."

Never one to say no to a cuddle, it wasn't long before you were snuggled safely in his arms, beneath the blankets. You wanted so badly to know what was bothering him, but you didn't want to stress him out by asking, so instead you busied yourself mapping the scars on his ribs.

"got that one from a literal catfight," he said as your fingers brushed a series of parallel scars on his lower ribs. "beat catty's brother silly for being a tool, and he got me good in return."

"She said he was kind of a dick," you remembered. "What about this one?"

"alphys, s'how we met actually. thought she was tryna rob us, turns out she was there to train sans."

You giggled, tracing the scar as it traveled over several ribs. Your fingers wandered upwards, and you hesitantly touched his cheekbone, his scarred socket.

"And this?" You asked quietly, and he looked a little sheepish as he leaned into your hand.

"...don't remember," he said softly. "no matter how hard i try, i never can. only that it hurt."

"Does it still hurt?" You asked, trying to move your hand. He pressed his face to your hand, trapping it to the pillow.

"not when you touch it," he insisted. "it feels nice. you touching me always feels nice."

You snorted, smirking. "Yeah, well, right back atcha."

"oh? y'like that? little bit'o bone action?" He teased, drumming his fingers over your hips. 

You laughed as he hit a ticklish spot, and all was lost for several minutes as he tickled you silly. You kicked and shrieked in protest, but eventually only his own mercy saved you, and when he finally stopped you wiggled until you were slotted right up against him, and it felt so natural when he pulled you in. His skull rested at the back of your neck, and the happy sigh he let out was enough to make you melt.

"i'm really glad you came by tonight," he whispered.

You smiled, drawing little circles on his hand where it loosely gripped your shoulder. You'd began the evening worried he didn't like you anymore, and once again he had proved you entirely wrong. And here he was telling you outright that he wants you here, that he missed you and he cares.

There's a feeling you hadn't had in a while that's begging to be let loose...but for now, you just closed your eyes and held it back, enjoying just being here with him.

You aren't in a rush to put labels on anything.

"Me, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who voted when I put up my vague polls! Thanks to your votes, Rus didn't actually relapse!  
> Follow my Twitter @msmkcreates to participate in my vague polls! (See end notes of the story for link)


	33. *Not Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody's perfect, nothing's perfect. But that's alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sex related injury, past drug abuse, reference to child abuse again, nothing that ain't been discussed already.
> 
> Smut: p in v, morning sex, fingering

You're warm when you wake up, a sense of safety and affection surrounding you.

Papyrus was running his fingers over the bare skin of your arm, still nestled against you sleepily. He's practically enveloping you with his long limbs, his breath warm on your shoulder. The sunlight creeped through the tattered curtains, giving you a sense of nostalgia for days not so long gone where you would wake up with him like this.

You smirked as you felt a little extra something pressing up against your legs, a little morning wood that ignited something primal in you, and even half-asleep as you still were, you wanted it. You lazily rocked back, rubbing his hard magic just enough to make his breath catch behind you, and if he wasn't awake, he was at least as awake as you were, a tired moan rumbling against you as he returned the motion, grinding slowly against you, his touches wandering from your arm to your side, following the seam of his shirt over your hip until he met skin, chuckling sleepily at the lack of panties before gripping your hip and grinding slightly harder.

You moaned and pressed back, and he rolled over you slowly, pressing you down but trying, even in his tired state, to keep his weight off you.

"g'mornin'," he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep, husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You felt him move, and then the tingle of unclothed magic pressed against your thighs, squeezing between them to rub at your pussy, rapidly growing wet at the thought of what was to come. "s'nice, wakin' up like this. s' okay?"

"Mmhmm," you confirmed, perking your butt up to prove it, and he hummed, kissing your shoulder as he slid along your slit a few times, in no hurry, making sure you were nice and wet, soft grunts of enjoyment muffled by your skin, your hair, whatever he was pressing kisses to at the moment.

By the time he angled your hips upward, you were already panting, hiding your moans in the pillow. You both made soft, satisfied noises as he began to press into you from behind, slow, shallow thrusts helping to sheathe him inside you.

"fuck, so tight, darlin'," he huffed, pressing deeper and deeper, so slowly. "so good, relax, just let me...oh  _ fuck _ , so good…"

You moaned as he filled you, so deep and thick and slow, and you could feel the tension building deep in your stomach, ready to snap--

Suddenly his front door busted open and ricocheted off the wall, startling you both and causing Papyrus to slip, snapping his hips forward in shock and sheathing to the hilt all-too-fast, and he felt awful when you screamed in obvious pain, and he hurried to withdraw--

"what the  _ fuck?!" _ He hissed, glaring up at his brother, who was standing in the doorway. But he only wasted a second on it, turning to you immediately. "fuck,  _ fuck, _ you okay, babe?"

You had buried your face in the pillow, a muffled wail revealing the truth of it even as you nodded. He wanted to turn you over and examine you properly, but he wouldn't with Sans standing there, anger obviously broiling in his bones. Instead he adjusted his pants and pulled the blanket up, allowing you to curl in on yourself even as it made his soul sink with guilt.

"ARE YOU QUITE FINISHED?" Sans asked, scowling as if  _ he  _ had been the one intruded on during an intimate moment.

"no, didn't fucking get there, actually," he ground out, trying to organize his thoughts as he reluctantly stood from the bed. He gripped his brother by the shoulder and helped him backpedal out the front door, and Sans humored him, arms still crossed.

"GOOD. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?" He hissed as Papyrus shut the door behind him.

"well, y'know, i was kinda thinkin' i could have sex in my own damn apartment without being interrupted."

"NOT THAT!" Sans made a frustrated noise and stomped his foot. "I COULD CARE LESS IF YOU FORNICATE WITH YOUR HUMAN! I'M TALKING ABOUT THE FUCKING _SMACK_ , PAPYRUS!"

Ah. He felt anger flaring in his chest, right beside the leftover shame and guilt of what almost transpired last night.

His grip on Sans' shoulder tightened. "keep your voice down."

His brother narrowed his sockets as if he wanted to challenge that, but to his credit he didn't respond by yelling louder. But then, he'd never been the kind to broadcast their problems.

"I only agreed to this separation on the condition that you got _clean_ ," Sans ground out, thankfully rather quiet. "Not so that you could party hardy however you want with that harlot!"

"firstly, she had nothing to do with it so you leave her the fuck outta this before i remind you who the older goddamn brother is," he snarled, and Sans had every right to look as surprised and quite frankly betrayed as he did in that moment--it's been decades since he's threatened that. "second, yeah, i bought it. but i didn't use."

"BULLSHIT!"

"keep it down."

"LIKE HELL I--"

Sans stopped short when Papyrus pulled his soul out, as casually as if he was asking directions. They hadn't done this since they were younger, either--only when he needed serious healing.

The soul floated between the two of them, lavender that was scarred and healed over many times but better than ever.

"see for yourself. yeah?"

Sans scowled, but he cupped his hands beneath his brother's and focused, leveling a CHECK on his brother's soul. The LV and everything was the same as ever, but it was the lack of any sort of note about heightened state that relaxed him.

 

**_Papyrus Osseus_ **

**_LV ???_ **

**_HP: 7055/7055_ **

**_Same as ever._ **

**_He's honest as can be. Worried about his mate, and his brother._ **

 

Sans let his eyelights linger on that last bit, before allowing the soul to return to Papyrus' chest. "Why buy it if you weren't going to use it?"

"i...planned on using it. then she came over, and i realized i didn't need it." He jerked his head towards the door, indicating you behind it. "was kinda in the middle of basking in that when you busted in, so thanks for that."

"What would make you…" Sans' sockets widened as he realized what must have gone down. "...your session. It was bad?"

"i'm fine," he lied, and though they both knew it was a lie, they also both at least understood it was almost true. "i get why y'came over...but y'can't do this sort of thing. try callin' next time."

"You have to let me in sometime," Sans huffed, a rare moment of vulnerability. "Please. It's my past, too."

Papyrus hesitated. It really wasn't in the agreement that he had to share anything, but he also didn't want to completely alienate Sans. In the end, the goal was to  _ fix _ their relationship.

"i don't feel ready to share," he said, almost robotically, the phrase they'd been taught to help facilitate communication. Code for when something is raw and could trigger an episode.

The expression on his brother's face was almost painful, a bitter sort of acceptance. "RIGHT. OF COURSE. I WON'T PUSH. BUT...YOU KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME."

"i do."

The silence that followed was awkward at best, punctuated by Sans curling and uncurling his fingers, halfway to reaching for him, and eventually settling on an awkward pat on the arm.

"TAKE CARE. SORRY I FLEW OFF THE HANDLE."

"you had every right to believe what you did," he acknowledged. "like i said, just call next time."

"I WILL." Again, Sans hesitated, and, slowly, as if it nearly hurt him to say it: "COULD WE...PERHAPS WE COULD...LUNCH? SOMETIME? TOMORROW, MAYBE?"

It hurts to see him this way. Normally, they only see each other in the context of work, which means smashing faces or having meetings. Those times are easy--just like old times, they allow themselves to be cold. But this, this is difficult, trying to navigate the strange world of being casually affectionate and healthy.

Papyrus smiled, rubbing his knuckles across his little brother's skull affectionately until Sans batted his hands away with the slightest smirk.

"yeah. that could be good. got a new sandwich place we could try."

There were some awkward goodbyes, and he sighed as he clicked the door shut behind him, rubbing his temples. Then he turned, searching for you and finding you immediately, sitting on the edge of the bed. He was there quickly, hovering but not touching.

"you okay, darlin'?" He asked, worry in his eyelights.

"I'm okay, really," you mumbled, eyes darting to the door.

"he's gone. sorry about that. he heard a nasty rumor and was worried." He sunk to his knees beside the bed, and your hands fell naturally on his skull as he settled between your legs. "there's some things i should tell you, but can i make sure you aren't injured first?"

"I'm really fine, it just surprised me," you said, but you spread your legs anyway, a little blush spreading on your face. "S-sorry…"

"sorry what?" He chuckled, but you just blushed harder, shaking your head. "can i touch?"

You nodded, leaning back further as he gently gripped your thighs, looking closely for any sign of damage. It was half-concern and half an excuse, after all, if he was worried he could just heal you blindly and it would be pretty effective.

He ran a finger along your slit, watching your face for any sign of pain, and was pleased to find none. He leaned up slightly to kiss you, before sitting next to you and pulling you into his lap. He picked up one thigh to hold you open, and reached down with the other hand easily, inserting two slender fingers.

"Ah...Rus…!"

"still good, little rabbit?" He hummed against your neck, and you nodded. He pressed a little further, to the next knuckle, flexing, then a little more, brushing the sensitive tissue by your cervix--

And there it was, your tiny squeak of discomfort, your body tensing as you leaned away slightly.

"shh, it's okay, m'sorry. poor thing," he murmured, coating his fingers with healing magic and gently soothing the injured tissue. You leaned back on him as he did, and soon your whimpers of discomfort became pleasured moans. When he started to pull his fingers out, satisfied you were healed, you gripped his hand and held him still.

"No, don't stop," you said softly, almost a whisper, and he smirked, swiping his tongue from your shoulder to just under your ear with a pleased purr.

"as you wish," he promised, and he coaxed his magic to buzz and crackle down to his fingertips, a live wire of energy that made you gasp and throw your head back against him. He was quick to claim your lips from there, and though it was a little awkward from this angle, the kiss was firey and full of passion as he finger-fucked your sensitive hole. With his magic and how ready you'd been earlier, it was no wonder you came quickly, and he was lucky he was behind you because he's certain his eyelights flashed hearts like the total sap he was when you gripped his arm and arched against him, breath coming in gasps as he gently worked you through your high.

"easy, darlin', easy," he hushed as he withdrew, kissing your hair as he helped you lay more comfortably across his lap. "s'better, is it?"

"It definitely doesn't hurt anymore," you giggled, covering your blushing face with your hands. "Why are you so good to me?"

"because if i wasn't, i'd be the fool watching you walk away with some other guy. n'then i'd really have a problem, because i've grown somewhat attached, if y'hadn't noticed."

"Despite my best efforts at self-destruction, I  _ did  _ notice that."

"oh, good, was worried i wasn't bein' forward enough," he chuckled, before patting your leg. "c'mon, up an' at'em. we gotta get back to your place n'feed the kids."

"Mmm okay. Only if you promise you won't skip after coffee this time, though."

He smirked at you, and your heart stopped just a little. "got nothin' needs doin' today but you, darlin'."

* * *

Hours later and you couldn't believe your luck.

Papyrus really was still there, sprawled on your couch watching reruns of Full House with you, his head tucked against your tummy and his arms around your waist. He insisted you keep his shirt on, but reluctantly agreed to let you don some shorts instead of just your underwear or, his preference, nothing at all.

It was uncomfortably warm in your apartment, but really that was just the excuse you used to reason he should keep his shirt off. He called you a hypocrite, teasingly, and it's been nothing but a lazy Saturday since.

But something's been bothering him, you can tell. He's unusually quiet, even though every few minutes there's something to play with in the dialogue between Joey and Uncle Jesse.

Finally, after one missed pun-purtunity too many, you looked down at him curiously. His sockets were trained on the television, his smile barely twitched upward, almost a grimace. Even though his gaze was directed at the TV, it seemed his focus was far away, and you wondered briefly, horrified, if he had somewhere to be and was only hanging around because he felt bad about last night.

"Are you okay?" You asked, cursing your all-too-quiet voice and nervous waiver. He startled a little, looking up at you in surprise.

"m'stellar, darlin', why?" He asked, sounding genuinely confused.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off, but he's too quick for you. He sits up a little bit, dragging himself up to meet you with a kiss, and you completely melt beneath him. When he's done with that, he doesn't move, trapping you to the couch as he gently pushes your hair from your face.

"i'm quiet. s'at why you're worried?"

"A little...I'm just being self-"

"no, don't. i've been quiet for a reason, don't sell your instincts short." He sighed, resting his forehead to yours momentarily. "just...been tryna figure out how to word what i need t'say. it's a tough conversation, n'i feel bad for draggin' it out 'cause it's selfish of me, y'know? an' with last night especially, there's things you don't know that…"

He paused, apparently just now noticing how completely and utterly distraught you looked. You looked as if you were going to burst into tears, and he's suddenly realizing all this vague bullshit sounds a lot like--

"no, no, no, don't, shit, i'm sorry, i'm not dumping you or cheating or anything like that, okay?" He said quickly, reaching up to wipe away your tears before they could fall.

"Then why would you  _ say _ it like that?" You sobbed, angry and upset as you shirked his touch in a somewhat petulant manner. "What the  _ fuck _ , Papyrus?"

He flinched. Full name. Ouch. But on the bright side, can't get much worse from here. "that's my fault, i'm sorry, wasn't thinkin', okay? look, it ain't nothin' to do with you, it's just info from my past that i think you should know. that you _need_ to know, in case it comes back t'bite me, like it almost did last night."

His hands in your hair seemed to soothe you, and you were frightfully quick to forgive, leaning in for a kiss with a mumbled 'okay' on your lips. He hijacked the kiss, deepening it to further reassure you, before adjusting to put less weight on you, pulling you to his side with a sigh.

"So what's so big and scary you had to go and scare me, huh?" You huffed, and he almost laughed.

Instead, he sighed and closed his eyes. He thought about how you feel against him right now, the way you soothe all his aches. The way his soul flutters whenever he sees your name on his phone, or hears your voice.

"just...baggage. if y'don't wanna deal, i get it--"

"Please, I know I'm a hypocrite about how much clothes we should be wearing, but I'm aware of how much of my baggage you deal with constantly."

" _deal with_ is a strong term. actively and willingly partake in is better."

"So, same. Hit me."

"that's a whole other kinda baggage," he chuckled, and you snorted, rolling your eyes. "okay, alright...i'm a, uh, recovering drug addict? i guess is the big one? an' i don't mean weed or pills, i mean...heroin, and coke. pcp. angel dust. i think i did lsd once but let me tell you, nobody who survived that will recommend me on that shit."

He rubbed his sockets with a bitter laugh.

"actually, m'pretty sure  _ nobody _ would recommend me on  _ any  _ of that shit. gained half my LV when i was in withdrawals, hot-tempered, lookin' for a fix, the next hit, something to dull the pain, to make it  _ stop. _ th'only reason sans ever agreed to the separation was 'cause i promised i'd go to rehab and get clean, and  _ stay  _ clean."

And he'd done it, almost too well, too quickly--he should have known it wasn't that easy. He shouldn't have even gotten as far as buying it last night, at all.

"So you have a past...I knew it wasn't pretty already, why are you so worried?" You asked, seeking his gaze. He let you meet his eyelights, and what he saw there nearly broke his metaphorical heart.

So sweet. So kind. How is he supposed to function when those eyes can look at him like  _ that? _

"s'not the past that worries me. s'the present," he said softly. "i've never had so much to lose over one bad day."

Your face changed as the penny dropped, and your mouth made a little 'oh' as you understood. "So...last night."

"almost.  _ almost," _ he reassured you. "it was...it was in my  _ pocket,  _ darlin'. if y'hadn't shown up when you did, i...i can't even say i dunno what woulda happened. i know. because it wasn't until i saw you there that i knew i was making the dumbest fucking decision i could make."

"So Sans this morning…?"

"he'd heard through the grapevine that i bought it."

"And the drugs?"

"down the sink, when i went to freshen up. honest." He made a movement like drawing an 'x' over his bare chest, a sort of cross-my-heart gesture. "an' i realize, i can see, this is...this could be a deal breaker, and i get it. if you can't do that, i'll be distraught but i'd get it. there's a lotta unknowns dealin' with someone like me, with such a dangerous cocktail of things clangin' around in there? the LV and the drug and the history of being abused--"

" _ Abused _ ?" You gasped, your hand fluttering to your mouth as he flinched, not having meant to say that at all, but beyond that, you didn't push for detail so he hurried past it.

"yeah, heh, yeah. so, basically, i know you think i'm just, you know, really put-together an' responsible? and i guess, for some things, that's true. but i'm, hmm, i'm not... _ not _ fucked up? so. i guess i just wanted to put all this off because you really don't need all my mess on top of yours and you don't need me over here doubting anything when you--"

He shut up immediately when your lips pressed against his teeth, the gentleness and affection reading loud and clear as day as he hesitantly kissed back, waiting for the punchline, for the goodbye.

It never came.

"I knew there was something else bothering you," you said softly, looking up at him through your lashes as your fingertips lightly traced his cheekbone. "You're always holding something back. Is this it? You're worried I'll leave because you aren't perfect?"

"when y'put it that way, it sounds pretty dumb," he mumbled, smiling just a little. "so, this, we, uh, all of this? i'm, you're...we're okay?"

"Of course we are," you sighed, resting your head against his shoulder. "I'm here for you. Good or bad, relapse or no, it won't make me stop caring about you, okay? I'm disappointed to hear that you almost relapsed, but I'm really,  _ really  _ proud of you for being strong. I...I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you, Rus."

He let out a breath, dropping his head to rest atop yours and relaxing until you were both just a bundle of arms and legs all tangled up. "that...means a lot to me, comin' from you."

" _ You _ mean a lot to me," you said softly, pressing close to his scarred ribs, enjoying how he felt enveloping you.

Safe. Like nothing can hurt you.

He sighed as he kissed your temple, relief and gentle happiness present in every movement.

"right back atcha, little rabbit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for voting for me on if Sans walked in or not! I'm happy with the result!
> 
> So Rus keeps up his trend of honesty, and it feels good, man. He's straightforward even when he's scared to be. And we're kinder than he realized, more understanding--life is good.

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to follow me for more updates and shenanigans!  
> [Menagerie ask blog](https://mks-magical-menagerie.tumblr.com)  
> [Main blog](https://msmkcreates.tumblr.com)  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MsMKcreates)  
> 


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